


Through The Looking Glass

by Tanaqui



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-15
Updated: 2006-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the members of the Stargate: Atlantis expedition, the trip through the Stargate was a step into the unknown. And things didn't turn out quite the way any of them expected. Can a burgeoning friendship help Kate Heightmeyer cope with the stresses of the Pegasus Galaxy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 (Suspicion)

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to my betas sgafan and elena_tiriel.

_Saw Rodney McKay again today. Not sure if it's doing either of us any good. Perhaps I should end it…._

Kate dropped her pen, leaned back and stretched her arms above her head. Then she looked back down at what she had written. Dr McKay, and most of the others here, would no doubt find it quaint that she still kept a hand-written journal. But she had never taken to keeping her diary on her computer. The act of writing – the effort it took to choose the right words and form them on the page – helped slow her racing mind, allowed her let go of the stresses of the day and relax.

Not tonight.

Perhaps it was the extra tension around the place. With all the Wraith attacks on off-world missions, and the finger of suspicion being pointed at the Athosians, everyone was a little jumpy. Yet, she acknowledged to herself, she had been on edge for weeks now.

Maybe she just needed a change of scene, a breath of fresh air….

As the panel to the terrace opened, a gust of wind caught her and pushed her backwards. Grasping the doorframe to steady herself, she stepped through. The wind was sweeping fiercely along the deck, and for a moment she considered going back inside.

The thought of the stale air and the pervading sense of gloom she had left behind encouraged her on.

She took a few more steps forward, and then froze as she saw a figure leaning on the rail a little further along. _Damn! A whole city to choose from and I can't manage to find one deck that isn't already occupied._ Even as she was wondering if she could retreat unnoticed – he surely couldn't have heard her against the rattle of the wind on the panels – the man glanced round. Again, she silently cursed. She could hardly back off now without appearing excessively rude.

He squinted at her through the fine spray being driven against them by the wind. "Dr… Heightmeyer?" He had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

She nodded in acknowledgement. "Major." She took another step forward so she wouldn't have to speak so loudly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise anyone else was out here. I'll find somewhere else." Her hair whipped across her face and she raised a hand to claw it back.

She barely caught his reply before his words were carried away from her. "No. It's OK. I could use the company." He hesitated. "Unless." He ran a hand through his hair. "Unless I'm in _your_ way?"

Wasn't that why she'd come out here? To have some time alone. Yet she couldn't ignore the silent appeal in his gesture.

Sighing, she joined him at the rail. "Want to tell me about it?" It was a little easier to talk this close, but she still had to raise her voice to be sure of being heard.

"What?"

She couldn't help laughing at the surprise on his face. "You look like a man with something on his mind, that's all."

He lifted a hand to straighten the collar of his jacket and gave her a quizzical look. "I do?"

She choked down her amusement, aware that she was being distinctly unprofessional. Which was, after all, why she'd stayed and not taken the escape route he'd offered. She shrugged. "Since Dr Beckett decided we needed a shrink, and made _me_ 'It'…." She knew that, with the need to half shout, she could not quite keep the resentment out of her voice. "Think of it as an official medical enquiry."

He raised an eyebrow "Seems I'm not the only one with something on my mind." Now it was his turn to be amused.

She flushed, embarrassed he had been able to read her so easily and turn the tables on her. _Not professional at all._ But, after all, they weren't in her office with a formal appointment. She looked him squarely in the face. "Well, we wouldn't _both_ be wandering around outside in the middle of a gale in the pitch dark if you were, would we?" she retorted.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Maybe we should do something about that."

"The wandering?" The wind might have half-whipped his words away but she had caught them clearly enough. It hadn't been what he'd meant and she knew it. But she was trying to match his mood. Gentle and sympathetic enquiries just weren't going to cut it: he'd raised his defences pretty sharply, and once more put back on the mask of the affable, joking, confident Major Sheppard she'd encountered on the few occasions they'd crossed paths in the past. The one who took everything in his stride, water off a duck's back. Time to try another tack.

"No." His reply had a slight sarcastic edge, the long drawn out syllable betraying a touch of impatience and amusement at her deliberate obtuseness, although he softened it with a smile. "The gale and the dark."

She gave him a wry look. "You've some Ancient device for controlling the weather?"

He laughed. "No. But we could go back inside."

She glanced over her shoulder at the looming tower behind her. Too much alien architecture, reminding her at every turn of where she was, of what they faced. Too many people huddled into too little space, their fear and uncertainty tangible in the faint odour of stale sweat that hung about the place. At least out here, with the salt tang in the air, she could close her eyes and pretend she was back home, standing on the cliffs at Point Lobos with the Pacific in front of her.

She sneaked another sideways look at him. Was he really going to talk to her? Ever? Did she, right at that moment, even care? Dammit! She was only out here wasting time on him because he'd looked like he needed help, help he apparently didn't want. And she was tired of that. Tired of coaxing and cajoling people's fears and needs out of them. Tired of constantly repeating the same bland assurances and rationalisations, and wondering if they were any help at all.

She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her irritation. Dealing with the people who came to see her might be hard going at times; she inwardly rolled her eyes at the many hours she'd already wasted on Rodney McKay. But it was the people who didn't drop by her office – and maybe needed to – that troubled her most. People like Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard.

This might be her only chance to make this kind of connection with him.

Even so, she couldn't face going back inside just yet. She stared out towards the dimly lit pier and the restless water. "I'd rather stay out here a while. That place is beginning to give me the creeps." Sensing him unmoving beside her, she realised he might not have caught what she'd said. She turned back towards him, "I'm sorry. I said I'd rather–."

"I heard." His voice was curt as he cut across her, and he frowned down at her. She crossed her arms defensively under his scrutiny. His expression softened. He half turned and gestured further along the deck. "Come on. I think I know a place where you can at least be out of the wind."

He led her along the terrace, around a corner and down some stairs to a small half-landing. The panels around them still rattled as the gale buffeted the city, but the only open side faced away from the wind.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much. Thanks." She lifted a hand and pushed her hair out of her eyes. It felt degrees warmer and surprisingly peaceful.

He leant back against the railing and looked at her, a faint smile on his face. "So, creepy, huh?"

She felt the heat rising in her face again. It sounded so childish. "Not exactly creepy. More…." She joined him at the railing, putting her hands on the strange smooth material that never seemed to get cold, no matter the weather. "Things haven't quite turned out the way we expected them to, have they?"

"Tell me about it!"

She smiled out at the ocean in front of her. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

While she waited for his reply, her mind wandered away to the questions she did ask. _How does that make you feel? What upsets you most about that? What would you like to do about that?_ And the platitudes she mouthed in return. _It's perfectly normal to feel that way…._ They were inadequate answers at the best of times, and even more so out here in the Pegasus galaxy, where "normal" apparently included the constant threat of death.

His voice broke across her thoughts. "I'm guessing, after all the psych tests they ran on us, SGC didn't feel the need to assign us a dedicated shrink?"

She shook her head and let out an ironic laugh, "No. I'm _supposed_ to be studying Ancient approaches to education and training. We only use a tiny fraction of our brains, you know. SGC would just love me to find some Ancient device that could help us tap into all those unused parts. Learn more quickly. Remember more easily. Turn us all into geniuses…."

"Aren't we all geniuses here already?" His tone was gently mocking. "I've never been in a room with so many doctors at once. Well, except one time I was in hospital and every doc in the place lined up to see my…," he paused. She glanced at him enquiringly and he raised an eyebrow and gave her a wry smile. "Guess that's a story for another time."

"Oh, I think I'd like to hear that one now." Leaning sideways against the rail, she crossed her arms and fixed him with a schoolmarmish gaze.

This time he was the one who looked faintly shamefaced, but he rose to the challenge. "Tonsillitis. I had it really bad when I was a kid. The doc told my mom it was one of the worst cases he'd seen. Every couple of months, they'd swell up like two huge red tomatoes. Rest of the time, they were just swollen some, but at least I could swallow. Anyway, felt like I had a hundred docs peering down my throat the day before my op."

Watching carefully, Kate saw how he wriggled his shoulders, as if remembering the discomfort. She began to suspect that, for all his banter and cockiness, he didn't much like being the centre of attention. Not when he felt vulnerable. She doubted she'd have gotten such a straight answer out of him if she'd confronted him directly about what had him out here at this time of night.

"I can see that could give you an aversion to doctors." She let her gaze slide sideways towards the water, to soften the challenge as she probed again. "So, must be tough being attached to a scientific expedition."

"It's… different." His tone was careful, neutral. She held still, keeping her face half averted. Her ears picked up the scratch of cloth, a faint chink of metal on metal as he shifted uneasily, and she knew he was waiting for her to respond. She let the silence stretch out between them. How long would it take him to break, and would his reticence or his courtesy would win out?

At last, he said, sounding apologetic, "More arguments."

She looked back at him and couldn't help smiling. "Oh, yes. Pet theories. Academic egos. Bad mix. Turns supposedly intelligent and rational adults into five-year-olds. Though," she turned away and once more rested her palms on the railing, contemplating the velvet blackness of the sky, "I think it's worse here than any college campus I've ever been on."

"Bigger egos? Crazier theories?" He seemed genuinely interested.

"No." She sighed. "I think it's because they're all scared. _We're_ all scared. It's not just a matter of a having a grant application turned down or not getting your paper published in a journal. Ever since we stepped through the Stargate, we've faced danger and death at every turn. If we pick the wrong theory, or make the wrong choice, people can die." Her hands reflexively tightened on the railing, seeking something solid and reassuring to hold on to. "Most of us aren't used to making split second judgements with such huge consequences. And that frightens us."

"And then you argue?" His voice had taken on a puzzled note.

"Right. Or they come and whine at me…." The words had slipped out before she realised it. She bit her lip and turned to him with a shrug of apology. "Ouch! That was _very_ unprofessional of me."

An amused glint lit his eyes and he cocked his head. "What was?"

"Oh, nothing.…" She answered his smile, sharing his playfulness. Then she lowered her gaze. "I must sound pretty hard," she said softly, inviting his reproach.

"More like it's hard work." His words were very gentle. She heard his understanding, his compassion, and it punched a hole through the shell she had carefully pieced together around herself.

She put her hands to her face, pressing her fingers to her nose in an attempt to hold back the tears that had sprung into her eyes.

"Kate?"

The single quiet syllable undid her. She let out a sob. "I'm way in over my head. I'm seeing cases an experienced clinical psychologist would balk at. Complex grief. PTSD. Survivor guilt…."

She had no time to wonder now, as she had earlier, which of those conditions John Sheppard was suffering from. Gasping for air, she burst out, "It's barely even my field. Beckett picked me because I'm the only person here with any counselling experience, even though it was way back in grad school. We've got almost nothing in the way of meds…." She dragged her hands across her face, trying to rub away the hot tears stinging her cheeks and regain control. "What good are a few sympathetic noises from me going to do?" She found herself struggling to breathe against the tightness in her chest.

He didn't respond, and she supposed she really had disgusted him now. Head bent, she furiously fought to regain her composure.

Beyond the sound of her own panting, she heard him clear his throat.

"There was this time my 'copter went down…."

A hiccough escaped her as she held back her sobs and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Looking up, she saw he had turned to rest his elbows on the railing. His voice had a contemplative note as he gazed out over the city.

"Middle of some goddamn desert in Africa," he added. "Wasn't exactly one of my better landings." She saw the corner of his mouth twist. "Smashed up my leg pretty bad. Concussion. Lot of bruises. Took 'em six hours to come and find us. Not much in the way of water, shade or painkillers while we waited. The whole time, Mack, my co-pilot, kept me talking about all the bars we were gonna hit and all the pretty girls we were gonna hit on when we got medical leave. I found out later he had four cracked ribs and a head lac." He turned and gave her a direct look. "Not much Mack could do, but him being there sure made the waiting easier."

She took another gulp and managed to quash the impending hiccoughs. With a last sniff, she crossed her arms and rested them on the railing next to his, once more contemplating the blurred outlines of the dimly lit city. "That's good to know." She could still hear a rough edge to her voice, but she felt calmer than any time since she stepped out onto the deck.

"Yes it is."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, as the companionable silence stretched out between them. What harm _was_ there in giving people a chance to talk, a licence to feel whatever they felt? Could the few suggestions she had – a little visualisation, some directed dreaming, relaxation exercises, journaling – really make things any worse? And what would they do if she wasn't there? Simply bottle things up until the pressure got too great and they exploded?

John's voice cut across her thoughts. "Ford."

"What?" She glanced across at him.

"You asked me to tell you what was on my mind. When you first came outside." He was frowning down at his hands. "Ford."

She turned and rested one elbow against the rail so she could observe him more closely. "What about Ford?"

"He's just a kid." John shook his head slightly, as if trying to dislodge a fly. "He didn't sign up for this. Being shocked by weird energy clouds? Blowing hatches on stranded space ships? Next in line for command in a war zone with life-sucking enemies if anything happens to me…."

Kate watched John's hands as he spoke, and saw how they clenched at his final words. Ford wasn't the only one who'd found himself unexpectedly promoted. The major, of all people, knew exactly what the Wraith could do to their victims. And, from the way he was currently championing the refugees' cause, she judged he felt guilty about bringing disaster down on the Athosians, too.

"Ford's a soldier." Kate spoke softly but firmly. "An officer. He might not have known exactly what he was getting into, but he knew it could be dangerous. Everyone who came through the Stargate knew it." She paused, uncertain, then plunged in. "From Colonel Sumner on down." John turned his head sharply at that but she forged on. "We were _all_ aware of the risks… and the possible consequences. I can understand that you feel responsible for the safety of everyone here. But we make our own choices, too, and you shouldn't try to take that away from us." She smiled. "As far as I can tell, Ford's doing just fine. I'd try not to worry about him too much, if you can."

He held her gaze for a moment, before he nodded his head in acknowledgement. A thoughtful look settled across his face.

Kate found herself putting a hand up to stifle a yawn. The emotions of the last hour had drained her. "I'm sorry." She flushed. "I'm exhausted. I should get some sleep. You too."

"Doctor's orders?" He raised an eyebrow.

She laughed. "Friendly advice." Smiling goodnight, she turned away towards the stairs.

"Kate?" She paused, her hand on the banister, and looked back. "Don't doubt yourself. You're good." He gave her a wry grin. "Very good."


	2. Chapter 2 (Poisoning the Well)

_A bit short with Rodney McKay today – not that he noticed! Was thinking about Carson…._

Kate rested her cheek on her hand and flipped back several pages in her journal to the start of the previous day's entry. Her weekly meeting with Carson to share details of her current caseload had, this time, been anything but routine.  For a start, he had failed to arrive in her office at the appointed hour. Wondering if he was tied up on some emergency, she had made her way to the infirmary.  
  
Entering cautiously, she found the ward quiet and almost deserted. Carson was sitting at a desk in one corner, apparently absorbed in the contents of his datapad.

"Dr Beckett?"

He started and looked up at her. An almost guilty expression crossed his face, as if she had caught him in some forbidden act. "What is it, lass?" His voice had a scratchy edge, as if he hadn't spoken for a while.

"We were supposed to meet for my supervision…." Kate's own words died as she took in the strain around his eyes. He had a haunted looked that she was seeing more and more often in the faces of those about her.

"Oh, aye. Sorry, lass. I lost track of the time " Carson shook himself and briskly gathered up his datapad. "Lets go to my office."

He ushered her ahead of him into the small cubbyhole off the medical stores area that served as his private sanctum. Looking around at the cramped quarters, she realised why he was usually to be found out in the ward – although she suspected he had been the one to allocate himself such a modest space. And even though he might have press-ganged her into an unwelcome role, she did appreciate his efforts to make sure she and her patients could relax in comfortable surroundings.

While he settled into his chair, she tapped in a few commands to transfer her summarised case notes from her datapad to his. As he scanned the report, she took her chance to scrutinise him further. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and he looked like he might not have shaved that morning. Not unreasonable if he had been in the infirmary all night with a patient. Yet he was normally dapper – and much more composed: the soft tattoo of his fingers drumming restlessly on the desk as he read broke the silence between them.

"So." He looked up and gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Quite a busy week. How did you get on with, uh, what was the name of that corporal I sent to you with the insomnia and anxiety attacks?"

"Kerrigan." She supplied the answer automatically, even as she wondered how he could have missed it when he glanced over the report. And why someone usually so on the ball seemed so distracted.

She continued to observe him closely while she sketched an outline of her sessions with Kerrigan and the other patients she'd seen that week. He mostly kept his eyes down; his responses were short to the point of being abrupt or indifferent; and he didn't ask her the usual slew of questions.

 _Am I boring him? Does he think I'm complaining? Does he think this is unnecessary?_ Kate couldn't help letting the doubts creep into her mind. _Dammit, if he's going to give me a crap assignment, the least he could do is offer me some support!_

She realised she too had lost her train of thought. In the pause while she gathered herself and looked at her notes for a prompt, Carson made one of his few interjections: a question whose answer she knew she had just given him. She looked back up at him and caught him rubbing a hand across his forehead, as if trying to smooth away the wrinkles that had gathered there. She squashed down her own irritation. Things were definitely not right here.

There was only one patient left to discuss. The one whose case needed the least input from Carson, since they'd been through it all before. Time to find out what was going on.

"And this week," she concluded, "Dr McKay was having delusions that he was an orangutan and tried to scale the Stargate."

"Mmm-huh…."

"Dr Beckett!" He lifted his gaze at her sharp tone. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, of course, lass. Dr McKay was having delusions that he was an orangutan…." A puzzled frown crossed his face. "Uh, that doesn't sound quite right…."

She laughed. "No. Dr McKay just had all his usual problems. But I wanted to see if you were really paying attention." She saw a flush creep up his face. "It's OK, Carson," she said gently. "It's pretty obvious something's bothering you. And, well," she gave an apologetic shrug, "I'm here if you want to talk about it."

"Ach, it's nothing." He shook his head and flashed what he clearly intended to be a reassuring smile. "Just a bit tired from the trip to Hoff. You know how I hate Stargate travel. Really. I just need a good night's sleep."

She fixed him with a stern gaze. "Maybe I should be the judge of that." He began to protest, but she cut across him. "You made me expedition shrink. Deal with it! We can talk now, or you can come by my office this afternoon." When he again opened his mouth to object, she raised a hand to forestall him. "It's not open for discussion. You're clearly incapable of supervising junior staff right now," she shook her datapad at him, "and I'Il insist on Dr Weir relieving you of duty if you don't pay me a visit."

For a moment, he looked stunned. Then he laughed, and there was genuine amusement in it. "Ach, I've created a monster!" He raised his hands in submission. "Very well! I have a research review meeting in," he glanced at his watch, "five minutes ago. So I'll see you at… 1600 hours?"

As she walked back to her office, she dredged her memory for the gossip that had been flying about the base concerning the debacle on Hoff. She'd gathered that Carson had been working pretty much round the clock, and that he'd been very excited about the potential of the drug. Perhaps it was just disappointment that it hadn't proved a success after all. Or perhaps there was more.

Reaching her desk, she pulled up the mission reports. At least these days she had access and didn't have to go cap in hand to Sergeant Bates every time she needed a little background. One phrase leapt out at her from Major Sheppard's summary, which was terse even by his usual standards. _Despite Dr Beckett's strong objections…._

Kate rested her head in her hands as she read on. She knew Carson had played a little fast and loose with the rules when giving the ATA gene therapy to expedition members, but she was also aware that he had done months of studies on animals back on earth. Which all indicated that, even if the therapy didn't work, it was very unlikely to cause any long-term damage. It sounded like the Hoffans had skipped that stage altogether. Yet it seemed as if Carson had no reason to blame himself. Unless….

She scrolled back up the report. … _Dr Beckett's strong objections…._ Perhaps something more lay behind the bland words. The report had all the feel of one of those carefully excised statements issued by the military that were – what was the expression? – economical with the truth. She leant back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair and sighed. There was one person who could give her the full story – if he was in the mood to talk.

Climbing the stairs to the command centre, she met the target of her search coming down them two at a time, apparently in a hurry.

"Major!" He was almost past her before her greeting halted him.

"Doctor?" He turned and frowned at her.

"Could I have a word?"

The frown deepened but he nodded. "Sure. Walk with me?" He gestured back down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, he strode off along one of the hallways leading from the gate room, and she trotted to keep up.

"So…?" he prompted while she was still searching for a way to broach the subject.

"So." She took a deep breath and plunged in. "I was reading the mission report on Hoff. I understand things got pretty ugly."

He stopped dead. Her momentum carried her on for a pace or two more before she faltered. When she swung round, she saw a look of cold fury settling on his face.

"Doctor." He used the title like an insult. "If I had a mind to come talk to you about Hoff. Which I don't. I'd come see you in your office." He spat every word at her as if it were a bullet. "Just because the other night…."

She raised a hand. "Major, I'm sorry." She quailed a little under his unrelenting glare, but pressed on. "I should have made it clear that I was looking for a situation report, not making a personal enquiry. I…." She glanced up and down the corridor to check there was no one in earshot, and then lowered her voice. "I was just trying to find out a bit more about what went on, in case, well, in case anyone else wants to talk to me…. I just wanted to talk to you about, you know, things you might not put in the official briefing…." She trailed off, feeling a little flustered. He continued to glower at her as if he didn't believe a word she was saying. Probably thought it was simply another ruse to get him to talk. She took a step closer and said quietly. "Dr Beckett."

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze still hard as he looked her over. She stiffened under the intensity of his inspection. Then his expression cleared. "Sure." He tipped his head towards the far end of the hallway. "I've some stuff to do in the armory. We can talk there. It'll be private."

As he punched in his access code, she reflected that the major had been very quick to assure her he had no need to talk to her about the mission to Hoff. Too quick, perhaps.

Crossing the threshold of the armory, she paused. She'd worked on a number of projects funded by the military, but she'd never before had such close contact with combat units. The densely-packed arsenal spread before her was a little unnerving. Pulling herself together, she hurried to catch up with the major, who was now down at the far end of the room opening a case.

As she approached, he began lifting out small blocks and checking them over. Plastic explosive, she guessed. She stopped a few feet away, reluctant to crowd him. Not that the stuff wasn't stable. They carried it around in their vest pockets, she reminded herself. But still….

"So?" He glanced up at her as he closed the lid of the first case and started on a second.

She found what seemed to be a safe place to lean, a little distance from him. "You must have all been very excited by the possibilities of the new drug? And very disappointed when it didn't work out?"

He nodded. "Pretty much sums it up." His words were laconic but carried a hint of bitterness. "Apart from the side effects." A humourless smile twisted his mouth. "Which Dr Beckett _maybe_ could've straightened out…. But as soon as the Wraith got a clue what we were up to…." He closed the case with a sigh and turned to her. "They don't need to feed to kill."

She flattened herself against the wall as he brushed past her to pull a magazine for a P-90 from a rack and check it was loaded. Finding the cramped space a little close, she backed away and folded her arms. Her palms were damp and her breathing quick and shallow as, fascinated, she watched him handle the lethal tools of his trade so casually. Of course, she reminded herself sharply, the major and his team were using this stuff to keep them all safe from life-sucking monsters.

Drawing in a deep lungful of air and letting it out slowly to calm her nerves, she focused her thoughts back on her questions. "And I should imagine Dr Beckett wasn't too thrilled with what the Hoffans did with his work? Moving to mass vaccination before they'd checked the side effects and realised how lethal it was?"

"Right." He was working his way along the row of P-90 clips. "After Perna died, guess he gave up hoping he could change their minds."

"Perna?" She tried to remember if she'd read the name in the report.

"Hoffan Chief Scientist. Beckett worked pretty closely with her." His hand hesitated over the next clip before pouncing down on it as he added. "I think they had… more than a professional interest in each other, if you get my drift." He put the clip back and rested his hands on the base of the rack for a moment. Then he shook himself and moved on to a row of rifles.

"Ah." Kate followed him a step or two but again stopped short, still oddly uncomfortable. "That would explain a lot."

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he picked up the first rifle.

"Depression or frustration over the project I could understand. But…. Let's just say, the past few weeks, I've run across enough people in the first stages of grief to recognise it when I see it." She found herself mesmerised by the brisk way he removed the magazine from the rifle, checked the chamber was empty and then pulled the trigger several times while he squinted at the empty firing mechanism. She dragged her attention back to what she had been saying. "I couldn’t understand where it was coming from."

He swung round to face her. Even though the weapon was pointed towards the floor rather than directly at her, and even though she knew it wasn't loaded, she took a pace backwards and raised her hands defensively. "In Dr Beckett's case, I mean." She laughed nervously and lowered her hands. "Sorry. Not very used to guns."

He angled the gun more deliberately away from her. "Guess I'm not used to civilians in the armory." He softened the words with a smile. "So, any more questions?"

"I think I'm too afraid to ask!" She returned his smile to show that was also a joke. "No, I think I'm done." She didn't want him to go back to suspecting her motives again. And she thought she had enough to make a start with Dr Beckett. "You were very helpful. Thank you, Major."

He nodded and stood back to let her past him.

Once back in the corridor, she let out a deep breath. That place had been distinctly unnerving. She made a mental note not to accept any future invitations to private chats in there.

She felt much more comfortable when, later that afternoon, she settled herself opposite Carson on the cream seats in her office. Surprisingly at home, in fact. Her new role seemed to be growing on her at last. Carson, by contrast, was perched on the edge of the seat, his hands pressed together between his knees. She smiled at him. "It's OK, Carson. It's not an inquisition." She pushed the datapad lying on the couch next to her a little further away. "I'm not going to mark you 'pass' or 'fail'. I just want to see what we can do to help."

He returned the smile, but his shoulders remained hunched. "Aye, I know. Just not used to being on this side of things. It's usually me that's fixing people."

"I know. And you do it very well." She leant forward a little and caught his eye. "But sometimes people can't be fixed. Most of the time we can deal with that fact, can't we? But sometimes it gets to us."

"Aye." He sighed and looked away, but she saw his shoulders droop a little.

"It must have been hard on Hoff to watch so many people dying." She kept her voice very gentle. "And I know that someone with as good a heart as you would blame yourself, even though there was really very little you could do to stop it." He gave a slight nod. For a moment he looked back at her and she saw the pain in his eyes. He quickly bent his head to avoid her gaze. Leaning forward a little more so she could get a better look at his face, she saw his lips were pressed tightly together. "And it must have been very hard to watch Perna die."

He swung his head up abruptly and fixed her with a startled and somewhat angry look. "How–?"

"You have friends, Carson. Who care about you and worry about you." She reached out and briefly touched his knee.

He sagged back again. "Aye. I know." He pulled his hands from between his knees and rubbed his eyes.

Kate also settled back into her seat. "Why don't you tell me about her? Perna."

"What's to tell?" He dropped his hands down and splayed them out on the seat on either side of him, as if ready to spring up and leave his pain behind. "She shouldn't have died. Such a waste." His fingers curled into tight fists "She was so… beautiful. I don't just mean what she looked like, although that too. She was so smart. She was the one who isolated the key protein. Did you know that? And she was passionate, and dedicated, and funny, and kind…." He looked at Kate, his eyes bright with tears. His voice was choked with love and loss.

"I'm so sorry, Carson." Kate had to hold her own emotions in check and control the lump in her throat as his raw grief touched a nerve in her. Yet, while she coaxed him to tell her more, she increasingly wondered if it was simply the situation that had ripened his relationship with Perna so quickly. In a way, she hoped that was the case: it wrenched at her heart to think he could have had the rare gift of a soulmate – if that was what Perna had been – torn from him so quickly.

Watching him leave at the end of the hour, with a promise to return later in the week, Kate's heart had been heavy. She knew how dangerous, if not actually unethical, it was for a doctor to become so emotionally involved in his work. And how easy it was to mistake the intimacy of the professional relationship for something more personal.

Now, a day later, she closed her journal with a sigh, and locked it away in her desk. Rubbing her temples, she realised she had a slight headache. Perhaps a breath of fresh air would help.

Stepping through the external door and scanning left and right, she half expected to see the lean figure of Major Sheppard, but the deck was deserted. She took a few uncertain steps towards the railing. Then, although it was a warm, still night, she turned and headed for the stairs and the privacy of the sheltered balcony a deck and a half below. Reaching it, she quelled a surge of disappointment that it, too, was empty.

Resting her elbows on the railing, she mocked herself. John Sheppard had made it quite clear yesterday morning that he wanted no more personal chats with her. And, anyway, hadn't she just had a salutary reminder of the dangers of losing one's professional detachment with patients?

She shut her eyes, and tried to summon a memory of the sun setting over the Pacific to replace the image of the city that, in reality, lay spread below her. Maybe if she did that, she could forget where she was: trapped in a galaxy that had turned out to be far different – far more dangerous – than anyone had expected. Trapped here with new responsibilities that she felt hopelessly ill-equipped to handle. And alone in a crowd of strangers who, she now realised, could never become her friends unless they found a way to feed enough power to the Stargate to let them get back home.


	3. Chapter 3 (Home)

_Nobody's saying it, but everyone just wants to go home. We all knew it could be a one-way trip, but I think the reality is sinking in at last. It's been so many months, and there's so little sign of a ZPM. People missing their kids' birthdays…_

Kate settled her back against the side wall of the balcony, pulled her legs up under her, and balanced her journal on her knees. She glanced through the railings to her right at the city below. More and more of it glittered in the dark each evening as they slowly explored it. It was beginning to remind her of San Francisco: of taking a drive up Telegraph Hill and pulling over to see the lights spread out below, stretching to the dark waters of the Bay. Yet Atlantis was quiet: no endless buzz of traffic on the freeways; no insects humming in the scrub; no mournful boom of foghorns when the weather closed in. She was always surprised there never even seemed to be any gulls – or whatever they had here – circling the sky or squabbling over scraps.

She shut her eyes and drew in a deep lungful of the soft night air, before turning back to her journal. She had been coming here, to the little private balcony, for nearly three weeks now, having discovered that she slept more easily on those nights she was able to get out into the fresh air for a while. After a few days, she'd also made it the place she wrote her journal each evening. Although, by the third time, she'd learnt to bring a cushion to soften the warm but hard floor.

No matter what the weather, this corner of Atlantis always seemed sheltered and peaceful. Opening her journal and riffling through to find the end of yesterday's entry, she silently thanked Major Sheppard for showing the place to her.

Absorbed in writing, she only half heard the clatter of someone descending the stairs above her two at time, the squeak of rubber soles as he paused at the top of the flight running down towards her, and his slow measured tread as he descended the rest of the way and halted next to her. She was simply suddenly aware of a presence and a pair of boots on her left. Looking up – and up – she saw Major Sheppard looming over her.

"Looks like someone's stolen my place." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Realising she'd been caught in what he seemed to consider his private territory, she gave a guilty start. Her journal slid from her lap, and her pen bounced across the floor when she fumbled to catch the notebook. As she made to rise, he put out a hand to wave her back into place. "Don't." He stooped and retrieved the pen. Folding himself up in the opposite corner of the landing, so that he faced her, he held out the ballpoint. "Okay if I join you?"

She leaned forward and gingerly took the pen from his outstretched fingertips. "Sure." She wasn't entirely certain about that; she didn't feel much like delivering a counselling session there and then, if that was what he expected. And in the past few weeks, she'd grown wary of engaging in anything but the most superficial social exchanges. Yet it would have been churlish to refuse. Conscious she was frowning, she made an effort to smile at him. "I was pretty much done." She shut the journal and clasped it on her knees.

"Poetry? The great American novel?" He leant back and rested his left arm across his upraised knee and gestured towards the notebook with his hand.

She curled her fingers more tightly around the spine and flushed. "Just my journal."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." He wrapped his right arm across his chest, and turned his head to the left to look out through the railings, while his loose hand balled into a fist.

"It's OK." She dropped the notebook and pen by her side. Leaning her elbow on one of the lower railings and resting her chin on her hand, she also looked out across the city. "Silly habit, really. It just… helps…. Someone to talk to, I guess."

A soft breeze drew a few strands of hair across her face, but helped cool the heat in her cheeks. The silence between them lengthened. Glancing across at him, she saw he was frowning out at the view. She turned her attention back to the dimly-lit spires below while she waited for him to speak.

"Never thought about that." His tone was thoughtful, almost as if his words were not meant for her. "You're everybody else's shrink. Who looks after you?"

She looked at him again, but he was still staring out at the ocean.

"I talk to Dr Beckett a little sometimes." She found herself shrugging. "But he's pretty busy." _And has his own troubles._

"So. You talk to yourself?" He spoke lightly and, when he looked back at her, he cocked an eyebrow, inviting the punch line.

Her mouth twitched. "Yeah. First sign of madness." She pushed the wayward strands of hair back from her face. "But I've always kept a journal. Since I was in high school. It just… helps." She wondered why she felt the need to confess that to him.

"And by hand?" He flicked his gaze to the book at her side. "That's kinda…" He paused, obviously searching for the right word.

"Old fashioned?" She tilted her head to rest her cheek in the palm of her hand. She wasn't sure if she was mocking him or herself. "Low tech? Antediluvian?"

He gave her a severe look, but she noticed how he had unclenched his fist. "I was going to say 'classy'."

"Oh." She blushed. Drawing herself upright, she leant back against the wall and crossed her arms.

He turned his gaze back out towards the city. "Sure like computers for mission reports." His voice again took on a thoughtful tinge. "But wouldn't trust my personal thoughts to one."

She nodded. "Guess I feel the same way. Or enough to choose my journal as my personal item."

"Really?" He looked back at her "Mine's a tape of a football game."

She raised her eyebrows. "Just one game?" He nodded. "Must be a good one."

"It is." A grin settled on his face as he thought about it. "Boston-Miami. '84."

She racked her brains for a moment before realisation dawned. "Ah, Flutie's Hail Mary?"

He gave her a startled look. " _You_ follow college football?"

Now she was the one grinning. "Yep." She let her hands fall into her lap. "Four years at Michigan. You'd have to be a deaf and blind not to come out a Wolverines fan." She saw him wince. "What is it?"

"Purdue." He flicked his left hand towards himself.

"Ah." She also instinctively flinched. Some reactions were ingrained. Then she laughed. "Could be worse." He gave her an enquiring look. "You could've been Ohio State. In which case, Atlantis wouldn't be big enough for the both of us."

"Yeah." He was smiling back at her. "Or you could have been a Hoosiers fan."

She shuddered. "Please, no. It's bad enough my father follows Notre Dame. I'm sure you can imagine what a fun day that always was in _our_ house."

He grinned. "Didn't they get shut out by the Wolverines last season?"

She smiled happily at the memory, and at the thought that he had chosen to deflect her with the one result worse than the thrashing Michigan had inflicted on Purdue the same season. "Right. Biggest score, biggest winning margin ever. Dad was not happy." Her smile faded. "Wonder who he watched the game with this year."

She turned to look out over the city again so he wouldn't have a chance to read her face and see the homesickness that had suddenly washed over her. _Bottles of beer; arguing over who got the last slice of pizza; the good-natured jibes hurled in both directions._

"You always watched the game together?" His words were soft, but brought a lump to her throat.

Once again, as on that first evening, she was surprised by how perceptive he was. And how easily he seemed able to find the right – or wrong – thing to say to crack open her shell. She took a deep breath and turned back to face him. "Most years, yes. When it was on TV." She shook her head. "I haven't been to a game in a long time. Was working at Stanford before I came here."

He gave her a wry grin. "Bit of a letdown after the Wolverines."

"Yeah." His amusement lifted her spirits again.

Silence fell between them. She found it didn't matter. She was happy to sit quietly for a while, and it seemed he felt the same. She watched the twinkling lights of the city while her thoughts drifted from one memory to another of her parents and sister and home. Not painful, so much as a sense of regret at what she might have missed, even as she experienced wonders and terrors here in a different galaxy. From time to time she glanced across at the major and saw the same kind of introspection on his face. Occasionally she caught his eye, and they would both smile, and then turn back to their own musings.

"You don't sound like you're from the Midwest."

His comment, when it came at last, startled her. She gathered herself and focused her attention back on him.

"I'm not." She pushed her hair back off her face with one hand. "Born in Connecticut. Lived all over the East Coast when I was a kid. My parents were academics and my dad had a lot of visiting professorships. Then we settled out in California when I was in high school."

He nodded. "My dad was career military. We moved around a lot too." Again he waved the hand propped across his upraised knee. "Guess that's why I kinda like this place. Reminds me of a lot of the bases where I grew up."

"Your dad was Air Force, too?" She was not surprised he came from a service family. Something about his bearing spoke of long comfort with military regimes.

"No. Army." He pulled a sour face. "A real Cold War hero. I was something of a disappointment to him."

"I can't imagine you being a disappointment to anyone." The words slipped out, automatic reassurance, yet she realised she meant them. He'd made a few mistakes in the months since they'd arrived in the Pegasus galaxy and after he'd been unexpectedly saddled with the burden of command. But, in the mission reports she'd read, she'd seen courage and ingenuity, a sense of justice, generosity. And she'd experienced his kindness firsthand.

Of course, she barely knew him, and he no doubt had flaws just like anyone else.

He denied her assessment of him with a grim laugh. "Try telling that to my commanding officers."

His comment took her by surprise and she was at a loss for words. She didn't know enough about his record before he'd joined the Atlantis team to either agree with him or refute him. She settled for what she hoped was a neutral sounding, "Oh."

His expression softened a little to a self-deprecating grin. "Lot of people thought I'd never make it beyond Captain."

She couldn't help raising an eyebrow at that. She opened her mouth to object but then closed it again and looked away. He'd clearly had enough of other people's opinions, and he wasn't here to be counselled by her. When she looked back, she was startled by the shrewdness of his gaze.

"Surprised?" Again that mocking edge to his tone, almost defying her to condemn him. Yet she'd counselled some of the soldiers he commanded. She knew the major was a man who inspired confidence in his subordinates. Although apparently not in those above him. Perhaps that chip on his shoulder was the issue as far as they were concerned.

She kept her own voice even and calm as she answered. "Yes. I'm no five-star general. Not even an Air Force shrink. But from what I've seen and heard, I'd expect you to make it a lot further up the ranks than that."

He gave her a doubtful look. Then he laughed. "Biased sample." When she looked puzzled he added, "Things are a bit different when you’re ranking military officer for the entire galaxy. No idiot generals stuck behind a desk too long giving dumb orders and getting upset when you don't follow them."

She tried to suppress a giggle and failed. "Just idiot civilian scientists?"

He smiled at her. "Not all of them."

She had to look away, unnerved by what sounded like a compliment in the midst of his amused disdain for the company he was keeping. Once more, she let her gaze drift over the lights of the city: fewer now that most people were heading for their quarters and sleep. She tried to think of a witty riposte, but her mind was blank. Again, the silence grew between them; again, she felt no pressing need to break it.

This time when he picked up the conversation again, she heard him shift before he spoke and was less startled. "Watching the game – family affair? Excuse for a party? Friends, beer, hotdogs?" Turning back to face him, she saw he had let his right arm, which had been wrapped across his chest, drop to curl around his waist. "Or just you and your dad?"

"Just me and dad, mostly." She gave a wry smile. "My mom and sis hate football." She hesitated, unsure whether she should quiz him directly, but curiosity won out. "What about you?"

"Usually whoever was around on base." He shrugged. "Luck of the draw where we were stationed what game they showed. Used to ship us tapes at McMurdo. We could sometimes get a particular game if we asked for it. But even that could be pretty random."

"You were based at McMurdo for long?" She remembered the bleak beauty of the Antarctic during her brief visit to the Ancient outpost. And the crowded clatter of being inside the shuttered, almost windowless base. They could have been anywhere, even levels underground in Cheyenne Mountain, for all the attention most of the McMurdo personnel seemed to pay to their surroundings.

"On my second tour."

She blinked. "My." She blinked again. "You must have offended someone important."

He laughed. "Well, that too. But I requested it. Kinda liked the place." When she still couldn't help looking doubtful, he added. "Peaceful."

His face took on a closed look, as if he were remembering more troubled times. She guessed he'd seen too much action in too many bad places. Again she took a risk and probed gently. "Surprised you swapped it for this."

His face relaxed a little, a half smile playing over his lips. "After I was asked, General O'Neill wanted to know why I became a pilot. Told him I think people who don't want to fly are crazy. He told me he thinks people who don't want to go through the Stargate are equally whacked. Kinda convinced me it would be a shame to turn down the chance." He gave her a sharp look. "What about you? Why'd you abandon a leafy college campus for this." Again he flicked his left hand in the general direction of the view below.

"I'm beginning to wonder." It was her turn to frown for a moment, before she grinned. "A chance to do some really groundbreaking research, I guess. A part of me always felt cheated that so much of academia seems to be tinkering with someone else's data or theory, just playing around the edges. Out here… well, definitely going to get a chance to investigate stuff no one else has ever looked at before." She laughed. "But I admit it: I miss Stanford. I used to like to eat lunch in the Rodin sculpture garden when I could."

"If we found a ZPM tomorrow, would you go back?"

Once more his question unsettled her. "Well, yes. But…." She stared out over the city, trying to work out what she did feel about Atlantis, Pegasus, the Wraith, what she was doing out here. "I'm not sure I'd want to go back if I couldn't ever return." The revelation surprised her, yet the moment she spoke the words, she knew it was true. She struggled to explain, as much for herself as for him. "There are people and places back home I miss, and too many things happening here I wish weren't happening, but… maybe home only seems so attractive because it's there and I'm here? I'm remembering all the good stuff and glossing over what made me come on the Atlantis expedition in the first place?"

"Know what you mean."

His voice was low, and a little bitter. Turning back to him, she saw he had lowered his head, and his hands were once more balled into fists.

"Back to dealing with idiot generals?" She tried to mask her concern at his evident bout of homesickness and regret behind some mild teasing, but he lifted his head and gave her a direct look that suggested he wasn't fooled at all.

"Yeah." He shook himself, as if to dispel the gloom that had overtaken to him. "Like I said, there are compensations to being the highest ranking military officer for miles around."

Feeling he wanted to be drawn from his introspection – that they both should be – she openly teased, "And the owner of the only college football tape in the same vicinity." She grinned at him. "Which means those of us less foresighted in our choice of personal items need to ask nicely if we want to watch it."

"Yes, they do." Amusement lit his face again as he joined her in backing away from the depths over which they'd unexpectedly strayed.

"So." She gave him her sweetest smile. "Can I watch the game some time?"

"Now?"

She checked her watch. "Well, no. It's late, and I have an appointment first thing." She gathered up her journal and pen, and pulled the cushion from behind her as she rose. "But I'd love to borrow it at some point?"

"Sure." He also unfolded himself from his corner, and got to his feet, looming over her as he stretched his back and grimaced. He looked down at the cushion in her hand. "Think I'll get me one of those next time."

As they headed back up the stairs, Kate found she was very much looking forward to that.


	4. Chapter 4 (The Storm/The Eye)

_Good to be back in the city again. Good it's mostly still in one piece. Strange how you stop seeing what's in front of you, stop seeing how amazing it is, when you live with it every day…._

Kate closed her journal. She wasn't in the mood to write, even though so much had happened that she had yet to make sense of. All she really wanted to do was reassure herself that Atlantis was safe. Laying her journal and pen to one side, she stood up and leant on the railing, gazing out at the storm-battered but largely unscathed buildings.

From this distance, the damage caused by wind and water was hard to see. In part that was because the city was darker than it had been in weeks. Repair teams would take a while to check outlying areas and make sure they were stable enough to allow people to move back in. Tonight, with dusk falling, the furthest piers were rapidly becoming indistinguishable from the flat ocean beyond them. Kate was strongly reminded of the brownouts California had suffered a few years ago, when whole acres of towns had been eerily without light.

Glancing down, she noticed a piece of seaweed clinging to the base of one of the stanchions that supported the railing. Irritated, she poked it over the edge with her toe. Truthfully, she wasn't really surprised the balcony had survived. Apart from collecting a little debris – even up here! – and a dusting of dried salt, it had been fine. Hadn't they chosen it because it was almost always sheltered, a sanctuary from the wind? Yet, on Manaria, she'd struggled to tear her mind away from what might be happening to it, afraid that, when she got back, it would be wrecked.

How strange that, in just a few short weeks, these nondescript square yards of deck had come to mean so much to her. How ridiculous, how selfish even, that she should care more about a place that was neither beautiful nor distinguishable from any of a hundred other stair landings than about the people left behind in equal danger.

She shook her head and laughed to herself. No, not strange. There were memories that made this place unlike any other. And not true, either, that she hadn't cared about the expedition members who had stayed to battle the storm. But it had been easier to focus her concern on the place, easier to concentrate on reassuring herself that it would stand up to the battering it was about to receive, than to let her mind be overwhelmed by her fears for those left behind on Atlantis. Carson, who should have been evacuated with them, but had, according to the last of the messages they received, waited on the mainland for a final group of Athosians. Rodney. Would she miss Rodney if anything happened to him? Yes, she supposed she would. He tried her patience several times a week, but she'd grown surprisingly fond of him. John….

She straightened, and pushed the hair back off her face. They were all safe, and so was the balcony.

No, not all safe. She gripped the railing again with both hands, her knuckles whitening as she thought about the two marines killed by the Genii. She'd barely known them, and it bothered her. It bothered her that she hadn’t taken the effort to befriend the people who were dying to protect her. It bothered her that she could so easily forget about them, gloss over their deaths as less important than a few yards of railing and panelling.

She sighed and consciously relaxed her grip. Back on earth, soldiers had been putting themselves in peril somewhere every day to protect her right to live freely and without fear as an American citizen. She'd taken it for granted. That bothered her too, now she was forced to think about it. But, on earth, with six billion people, you simply couldn't mark the fall of every sparrow. All you could do, perhaps, was honour the living and the dead when you were reminded that you should. Memorial Day. Veterans Day. In contrast, out here, in such a small community, every death should matter, did matter.

Still – she crossed her arms and leant forward on the railing – some lives inevitably mattered more to each of them than others. She didn't doubt the friends of the two marines cared far more about their deaths than they would have if anything had happened to Dr Weir or Dr McKay or Major Sheppard. Just as she didn't really mind if half the levels on the southeast pier were flooded, while she worried about her own special corner of the city. People were, when it came down to it, self-centered and capable of only so much compassion.

Incapable, too, of handling more than a certain level of anxiety for the things that were important to them. She'd seen that since she arrived on Atlantis: people almost paralysed by worry not for themselves but for others, unable to make choices out of fear of the consequences. To act or not to act. And, sometimes, to be powerless to do anything. She'd seen strong, confident people brought to their knees by their impotence, seen them make bad calls just to be able to feel they could do something, anything.

How would she have felt if she'd known what was really going on Atlantis? How would she have dealt with that? Not that things hadn't gotten sticky on Manaria for a while when Atlantis finally re-established contact.

Kate's mind drifted back to her unexpected debriefing by Dr Weir earlier that day.

"Doctor Heightmeyer, do you have a few minutes to spare?" If the call over the radio had surprised her, she had been even more startled when Elizabeth arrived at her door in less time than it took to walk from the transporter at the end of the hall.

"I was hoping you could tell me more about what happened on Manaria." Elizabeth wasted no time on pleasantries – and gave Kate no time to misunderstand this was anything other than an operational conversation.

"Of course." Kate gestured to the couch. "Please, sit." As she settled herself opposite, she remarked, "I'm not sure what I can add to whatever Sergeant Bates might have told you, though."

Elizabeth carefully crossed her legs and clasped her hands lightly on her knee. Her face was composed, but Kate detected faint tension around her eyes. Was the question about Manaria a straight enquiry, a hastily conjured pretext, or something in between? Kate didn't spend enough time around Elizabeth to know for sure how typical that signal of unease and concern was.

Elizabeth paused before answering, and spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "Sergeant Bates is… very efficient." She tilted her head sideways and gave Kate a conspiratorial smile. "But he often sees things in… black and white, shall we say?"

Kate leant back and returned the smile. "And you want me to add the colour?"

"Yes I do." Elizabeth remained upright, her back straight. "Did you notice anything odd about the Manarians when you first arrived? Anything at all suspicious?"

"Not really, no." Kate shook her head, thinking back and wondering if there were signs she’d missed at the time. "They put us up in what looked like army barracks, but that seemed reasonable given there were a couple hundred of us and we only gave them a few hours notice. Of course, I'm sure Sergeant Bates has told you it would have been relatively easy to trap us there when we finally found out we'd been double-crossed."

“He did.” Elizabeth gave Kate a penetrating look. "But you definitely didn't know anything was wrong until we made contact again?"

"No. Although," Kate hesitated, "maybe we didn't exactly help ourselves there." She lowered her gaze. "I know Sergeant Bates was all for rounding up the Athosians and finding out who was responsible there and then. Or even just leaving the whole lot of them to the mercy of the Manarians and the Genii…." She stopped, reluctant to criticise Bates. He had, after all, done an exemplary job in securing the compound, so that the Manarians had thought twice about storming it and taking them hostage.

"Yes, I know." Elizabeth sighed. "He does have a bit of a blind spot. It could easily have been one of our people who was forced to give up a GDO."

"Well, that's what I was going to say. That may not quite be the case." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at that, and Kate shrugged apologetically. "The expedition team…. We kept to ourselves. We knew the Manarians didn't really want us there, and we didn't think we'd be there for long, anyway. And, well, I've gotten the impression a lot of expedition members just aren't that comfortable interacting with people from Pegasus, to be honest."

"I'd noticed," Elizabeth interjected dryly.

Kate nodded. "But we also didn't mix with the Athosians. That was probably our biggest mistake. I do think the Manarians deliberately targeted them rather than us, so they could persuade some of them – including this Doran – to go off with them. But if we'd been more involved with them, we might have figured out what was happening sooner, and found a way to warn you." She shook her head. "Or maybe not."

Elizabeth gave her a reassuring smile. "Probably not.” Her face turned sober again, and Kate saw the tension return. “From what Halling says, it sounds like they did a pretty good job of separating Doran from everyone else before they went for the GDO. But…," she dropped her gaze and a thoughtful expression settled on her face, "I'll take it under advisement that you think we need to mix more. With the Athosians on the mainland, we seem to be literally and figuratively in two camps. Even so," Kate saw a faint shiver run through her before she looked back up, "I don't think it would have made any difference whose GDO they got. We were the ones who let the Genii onto Atlantis, not the Athosians. We need to be a lot clearer about gate protocols, train our people better."

Was that shiver fear? Guilt? Remorse? Or something else? "But if the Genii had an Athosian IDC…?" Kate probed gently. She was still wondering quite why the woman opposite had chosen to pay a visit to Kate’s office to talk about this, instead of – as on several previous occasions when she’d wanted a briefing – calling Kate to the goldfish bowl of Stargate operations.

Elizabeth cut across her brusquely. "Corrigan and Lopez should have confirmed with me or Major Sheppard. Gotten more information before lowering the shield." She quirked an eyebrow. "It's not much of a consolation that they paid for their mistake – my mistake – with their lives."

Kate kept her face neutral, but her heart went out to Elizabeth. More than one person had found themselves thrust into situations and faced with decisions and consequences they’d never expected to have to deal with. Again she pushed a little. "Is it any consolation you almost paid for it with your life too?"

"Honestly? No." Elizabeth gave a harsh laugh. "Though I never thought I'd see the day when Rodney would offer to take a bullet for someone else."

"For _you_." Kate kept her voice quiet but firm. "Because he respects you, Elizabeth. Because he cares for you. We all do. And we've all made mistakes." She leant forward and touched Elizabeth's hand briefly. "Sometimes the consequences don't matter much. Sometimes they matter a great deal. But we run that risk every time we make a decision about what to do. Even if what we decide to do is nothing."

Kate watched Elizabeth closely, wondering if she felt patronized by her reassurance. But Elizabeth met her gaze steadily, apparently prepared to indulge Kate in her homily, even if she wasn't going to take it to heart. Kate had time, while she framed her next words, to reflect that it was the mark of a good leader to make each member of the team feel valued for their contribution.

She chose to keep her tone brisk when she went on. "You make hundreds of decisions every day that affect the lives of the Atlantis expedition. How many do you get wrong?" Not waiting for an answer, she plunged on, "No one gets things right all the time. What matters is that we learn. We don't repeat the same mistakes. We understand more about what might happen as a result of our choices. We see the pitfalls. We take steps to avoid them."

Feeling a little embarrassed she was burbling, Kate sat back and gave Elizabeth an apologetic smile. "But you know all that."

"Yes, I do." Elizabeth's returned the smile. "But it's good to be reminded of it."

Kate was about to speak again when a quiet beeping came from the datapad on her desk. She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’ve a client due in five minutes.” She got up and crossed to the desk to silence the alarm. When she turned back, Elizabeth had also risen.

“I’ll leave you in peace.” The assured, reassuring mask that Elizabeth showed to the world was back in place.

Impulsively, Kate took two steps and half blocked Elizabeth’s path to the door. “Dr Weir. I know there are some things you can’t share, or that no one else could understand. But my door is always open. If you ever feel the need….”

“I know.” Elizabeth touched Kate’s arm briefly as she passed her. “I’ll remember that. I promise.”

When the door had slid shut again, Kate took a deep breath. Crossing to the window, she looked out across the southeast pier below, but she was blind to the view. Now Elizabeth had gone, she could admit to herself how much it had shaken her to see the expedition leader’s self-doubt and uncertainty. Not that it wasn’t allowed, or justified, or even that unexpected. But – Kate realized – she’d drawn much of her own confidence from Elizabeth’s unwavering optimism and strength. In the last ten minutes, she’d lost that reassurance, and acquired the burden of helping Elizabeth hide her fear from the rest of the Atlantis team.

She remained staring out at the city until Rodney arrived. Even after they’d settled down in their customary positions opposite each other, she found it hard to concentrate. Luckily for her, Rodney seemed very pleased with himself, and was – even more than usual – determined to start their session by launching on a long monologue in which she had to do little more than indicate she was paying attention.

He didn’t wind down and appear ready for any kind of counseling until most of the way through the session. By that point, she’d managed to put her own feelings to one side to concentrate on his.

“It’s good that you feel so positive about yourself today, Rodney.” Kate tried to keep her tone upbeat, even though she was wondering where the catch was going to come. Rodney might exude confidence that bordered on arrogance publicly; in Kate’s office, he let the mask slip

“Yes!” He puffed out his chest. “Me.” He grinned happily. “Still can’t believe I stepped in front of a loaded gun to save Elizabeth. Me!” He paused, and Kate could almost see the euphoria draining out of him, like air leaking out of a punctured tire. More quietly, and almost angrily, he said, “Can’t believe I did that.”

“Why does that surprise you so much?” Kate had still to get to the bottom of why Rodney found any sign of altruism on his part so disturbing, although she was forming an impression that his cynicism was the result of someone comprehensively taking advantage of his good nature at some point. Probably in his seventh-grade science club.

Now, Rodney gave her a weary look. “Because I’m a coward.” He rolled his eyes. “Because I prefer to stay alive. Because I’m not normally that stupid. Because it’s the kind of brainless, Action-Man thing Sheppard would do.”

This wasn’t the first time Rodney had brought the major up in their conversations. Not so strange, given they worked so closely together. And not the first time he’d found ways to belittle Sheppard or laugh off his achievements. Kate suspected the root of some of Rodney’s issues lay in the unfavourable comparisons he secretly drew between himself and John Sheppard.

Again, she probed for the reason he found it so hard to be nice to people. “Do you think it’s stupid to care about your friends and try to protect them?”

His reaction made her jump, even though it was one she’d become all too used to. “What kind of a question is that?” His voice rose, and he lurched forward in his seat, his eyes bulging. “Of course I think it’s stupid if it’s gonna get you killed. What kind of idiot…?”

“Rodney,” Kate cut across him sharply and raised her hand. “That’s enough.”

He stopped, his jaw hanging open, looking a little like a stranded fish. Then he snapped his mouth shut. “Fine,” he said more quietly, settling back on the couch, his tone now resentful. “Fine. Yes, I think it’s stupid if it gets _you_ killed!”

Kate took a deep breath. After their first few sessions, she’d made it very clear he was allowed to be angry or upset at whatever was going on in his life, but she wouldn’t countenance sarcasm directed at either her or the therapy process. Counseling him was difficult enough. These days, he only let loose at her occasionally, and she knew it was a sign he was more than usually distressed.

She focused on his answer. “So, you don’t consider sacrificing your interests for those of your friends to be at all admirable? I’m sure Dr Weir thinks very highly of you for what you did.”

“Sure,” Rodney snapped. “And then Sheppard upstages me by pulling off that rescue stunt just as the Genii were leaving. I bet _that’s_ what she remembers.”

Kate wished for a moment she could break the confidence of her earlier conversation with Elizabeth in order to reassure Rodney. She pondered the irony that Elizabeth probably valued John’s actions in saving her life far less than Rodney’s, because her expectations of John, of what he would do, were so much greater. Again she prodded gently at what was clearly a sore spot for Rodney. “Do you think people value Major Sheppard more than you?”

 

“Of course they do.” Rodney sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped, the fight going out of him. “He’s oh-so-heroic,” he waved his hands in the air in frustration. “He’s got that charming, rakish thing going on. People like him. I'm not really a people person, you know.” He crossed his arms, a glum expression settling on his face. “No wonder he has every woman on Atlantis swooning over him."

Kate couldn’t help laughing at that, although she tried to smother her amusement as quickly as she could. After all, jealousy might not make much sense rationally, but it was a very real and powerful emotion. She composed her face again and tried to offer some brisk reassurance. "Come on, Rodney. Do you really think that's true? I'm sure a few of us are immune to his charms.” She tried to catch his eye and smile at him. “And I'm sure you have your admirers, too."

“Yeah, right.” He looked away in disgust.

Kate felt a pang of sympathy. She supposed Rodney had had a lifetime of losing girls – even smart, geeky girls – to the easy charm of men like John Sheppard. And then listening to them sigh and cry when the Sheppards of the world casually broke their hearts.

“Rodney,” she sneaked a look at her watch to confirm it was time to wind up the session, “people often take for granted those they value most.” She clasped her hands around her knee and leant forward, willing him to listen. “They don’t tell them often enough and clearly enough how much they appreciate them. They’re stupid enough to be distracted by the charismatic types who’re good at talking themselves up.” He turned back to her, a slight sneer on his face, whether for the people who were so easily distracted or herself for her attempts at reassurance. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t, deep down, appreciate the quiet heroes. People like you. You’re the ones they turn to when the chips are down.”

Rodney tilted his head to one side. “I did save the day – again.”

“Yes, you did.” She gave him another encouraging smile.

He nodded. Wondering if she was really helping him, she watched him once more pull on his protective colouring – like a moth mimicking a yellowjacket wasp – with a quiet “Ha!” of satisfaction.

Several hours later, with the city darkening before her, she found herself pondering the differences and similarities between Doctor Rodney McKay and Major John Sheppard. John might have the personal charm Rodney lacked, but she was coming to the conclusion both men had a tendency to compensate for self-doubt and insecurity with over-confidence, and a need to act just to prove themselves.

Hearing footsteps behind her – something, she realised, she'd been listening for – she swung around quickly. One of the objects of her thoughts was descending the stairs.

As he came up to her, they both spoke together.

"I was just thinking about you," she blurted out. She felt a flush of heat rush through her as the sentence echoed loudly in her head.

"Came looking for you yesterday evening but you weren't here.” He was frowning down at her, his eyes narrowed. “Did I miss you?"

Her astonishment almost overtook her embarrassment. Two emotions warring within her left her speechless for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to pull herself together and answer, so he wouldn't have time to pursue _her_ remark. "No. I was in the last group back, with Sergeant Bates. So it was late, and I was tired." She glanced away, not sure what to make of the fact he’d sought her out. He was worried about her? Or, more likely, he was worried about himself and needed her professional skills? She looked back again. "Sorry. If I'd known you wanted to talk…." His day, after all, had been rather more stressful than hers.

He shook his head. "Just wanted to check you were OK. And that our balcony survived the storm."

The heat returned to Kate’s face with renewed intensity. After everything that had happened, he’d been worrying about _her_?

She’d tried not to read too much into their increasingly frequent conversations. She’d done her best to dismiss the fact that they lightened her days, and reminded herself every time that, in such a small, closed community, friendships were a luxury someone with her professional responsibilities could ill afford. And she’d also never quite dared believe he might enjoy her company just for the sake of it, and not because it was a way to see her on a professional basis without, as ranking military officer, losing face.

She turned away and looked out over the city. "Just a bit of seaweed,” she managed to croak. “And everything's a bit gritty with salt."

“And how’s the balcony?”

His delivery was so deadpan, it took her a moment to get the joke. Then she found herself giggling. She looked back at him and returned his grin. “It’s fine.”

Thinking back, she didn’t remember many occasions when she had felt like she was counselling him. If anything, the reverse. Mostly they just talked about home: football, places they’d travelled, horses (for him), sailing (for her), movies, music, family. Perhaps he really did genuinely like spending time with her.

"So,” he interrupted her musings, “you were thinking about me?” The grin grew wider. “Want to tell me what?"

"Actually, I can't." She smiled apologetically, and was glad to find she didn't seem to be blushing as much this time. "It was something a patient said in a session."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing."

"Oh, it was rather complimentary." She laughed. “I hear you’ve been quite a hero the past day or so.”

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable and swing away from her to lean on the railing. “Not so sure about that,” he muttered, staring down at his interlocked fingers. “Nearly got everyone killed several times over.”

The abrupt change of mood caught her off guard. Her laughter died. Seemed she’d read the situation right to start with and he had things on his mind.

She stepped next to him so she could catch a glimpse of his face. He was frowning, “But you didn’t,” she pointed out gently. “Despite the Genii’s best efforts.”

“When I thought he’d shot Elizabeth….” His voice trailed away. He bowed his head still further. “Thought I was being so smart… taking the C4… cutting the power. Guess I underestimated him….”

“We all make mistakes.” She tipped her head sideways, trying to catch his eye, but he refused to look up.

“I can’t afford to make mistakes like that.” She didn’t need to see his face. The self-laceration in his tone was enough. Abruptly, he stood up and took a pace back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lay all that on you.” The words were firm, but there was a rough edge to his voice.

“John?” When he didn’t look at her, she repeated his name more sharply. “John.” He met her gaze at last. Although his face was composed again, she saw the uncertainty and guilt in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I’m here.” She was going to say more: about how she wouldn’t judge him, or tell him what to do, or try to make it all better. But it suddenly seemed unnecessary. He knew what her job was. And he needed to know this wasn’t just about the job. “I’m here,” she repeated softly.

“I know.” He gave her a brief, weak smile before turning and walking away.

She wanted more than anything to follow him, make him talk, comfort him. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she let him go.


	5. Chapter 5 (Hot Zone)

_No time to write this evening. John was waiting for me…. Too much to think about and not sure this is the place to make sense of it…._

Kate tried not to falter as she rounded the last turn on the stairs and found him there before her. She looked him over as she carried on down the stairs. He appeared much as he had the first time they talked: hands spread on the railing, staring outwards, tension in every line. Part of her wasn’t terribly surprised to find him like this: he’d been preoccupied for the past fortnight, ever since the Genii raid. Today there’d been more deaths. Last week, it had been the two scientists he’d been ferrying out to the weapons platform.

Not that he’d spoken of it since that night just after the Genii raid. He never spoke about any of his missions to her. They mostly talked about small things. One whole evening they’d reminisced about food back on earth, and bemoaned the vileness of MREs and the lack of coffee. She assumed he wanted a slice of “normal” somewhere in his life, and she was happy to oblige. Not as if she didn’t need some “normal” too. It was a pleasant change of pace from the kind of conversations she dealt with all day.

Walking the last few yards across the landing, she made sure her steps were deliberately loud, so he wouldn’t feel she was sneaking up on him. At the same time, she quickly checked her watch. No, not much later than her usual time. He’d certainly never been here this early before.

She stopped a pace or so behind him. His back had stiffened and she knew he was aware of her presence, but he didn’t turn. Did he want her there or not? He must. She was here almost every evening and, unless he’d completely lost track of time, he would be expecting her. And if he’d really wanted to be alone, there were plenty of other places in the city he could go. Her mouth twitched half in amusement and half in irritation. He wanted company, all right, but didn’t look like he’d be much company.

She waited a moment longer, until it was clear he wasn’t going to acknowledge her presence. She wondered if he wouldn’t turn round because he was having trouble controlling his expression, or because he’d been crying.

“John?” She kept her voice soft: enough to carry across the distance between them, but little further.

There was a beat longer before he turned. His face was dry, composed. Too composed. The glint in his eyes, that hint of mischief that she always expected to find, was absent.

His gaze flickered over her, fixing on the cushion and journal in her hand. “I’m in your way.”

She shook her head. “Not really. Not much to say today.” She bent and put down her burdens.

When she straightened, he had a slightly cynical sneer on his face. “After all that happened?”

Noting the faint bitterness in his tone, she shrugged. “I spent a large part of the day stuck in my office, increasingly regretting that last cup of Athosian tea I had.” She gave him an embarrassed half-smile. “So it was a pretty dull day for me.”

He didn’t return the smile. If anything, his face hardened, and she wondered if she’d misjudged her response. It wasn’t often that he closed her down completely like this, the unspoken warning clear in his body language. On those rare occasions she threw out a remark that invited him to confide in her, he would mostly deflect her concern with his easy charm, in a way she usually found utterly infuriating. Whether she was trying to be his psychologist or his friend – and she wasn’t sure which she was looking for – he had so far proved impossible to get close to.

That he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, put on his affable mask this evening heightened her sense of unease. She tried to keep her own face neutral. Fearing she wasn’t succeeding, she turned away and rested her arms on the railing. Besides, she’d worked out over the past weeks that he tended to respond to personal remarks more willingly if she wasn’t obviously worried, or confronting him head on. “I hear your day was rather more exciting,” she added.

She felt his stillness for a moment, and the strain in him, before he shifted to lean next to her.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He let his breath out sharply.

She carefully kept her gaze directed to the view below. Half a dozen opening gambits were running through her brain, and normally she wouldn’t have been at a loss to choose one of them. But she didn’t want to make him back off by signalling how clearly she could see his weaknesses and his needs. As she’d begun, so she needed to go on, letting him come to her, confident in the reception he’d get. In the end, she settled for a simple, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They lapsed back into silence. She waited, knowing he’d get to the point on his own as quickly as – maybe quicker than – if she tried to drag it out of him. The last of the sun was touching the towers of Atlantis, turning the soft greys to bronze and copper and gold. As the heat of the day slipped away, she could feel the warmth from his arm resting beside hers, close but not quite touching. Glancing down briefly, she noticed how dark the fine hairs on his skin looked against his light tan. She shivered as the sun slipped below the horizon, and had the urge to wrap her arms around herself, but she stayed where she was.

He stirred a little. “You’re good not to talk to,” he said quietly.

She couldn’t help her mouth twitching at that, and she bit down on her lip to stop herself laughing. Either he was watching her struggle, or he’d realised how his words sounded.

He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “I mean….”

She allowed herself a brief glance across and caught his eye. Then she looked away again. “It’s OK. I know what you mean.” She smiled out at the city. “Thanks.”

More silence. She appeared to be studying the view, but the focus of her concentration was on him: the slight flexing of his clasped hands; the way he drew his fingers apart and allowed them to hang limply; how he shifted his weight a little. Her breathing quickened as she recognised the signs and waited for him to speak again.

“You’re not going to ask?” He sounded almost puzzled.

“No.” She glanced across and caught his eye. “But I will listen.”

He held her gaze for a moment, before he straightened, resting one hand on the railing while his right hand dropped to his sidearm in its holster. His fingers drummed softly on the body, while his palm curled around the grip. “Don’t know where to start,” he confessed at last.

“OK.” Kate also straightened and looked back out over the city. She nodded to herself as she settled on a question that she’d often found helpful. “What’s the one thing you’d change if you could?”

“Order I gave.” The answer shot out like a pistol round, making her jump. He rocked back on his heels too, almost as if he’d experienced the recoil of a real gun. He snorted. “Guess I did know where to start.”

She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing pulse, and stretched out her fingers from the fists they’d balled into. While she was still wondering if she needed to prompt him again, or whether she should let him find his own pace, he pushed back from the railing. Twisting her head, she watched him stride away from her with three quick, angry steps, until he reached the stairwell. Faced with the choice of going up or down, he stopped. He put out a hand and rested it on the central post, his head bent. His right hand still cradled his sidearm.

“I ordered Bates to open the door to the gym.” He spoke quietly, but his words were clear, clipped, a savage edge to them. “This afternoon.” He tilted his head sideways, not quite looking back at her. “Peterson was heading for the central tower. I wanted to go stop him.” He bowed his head still further, as if the weight of memory was pressing him down. “Elizabeth told me to stay put.”

Again, he paused. Slowly, noiselessly, afraid to disturb him, Kate turned, leaning back against the railing. Instinctively she clasped her hands in front of her, twisting them together. Suddenly aware of her left thumbnail painfully digging into her right palm, she pulled her hands apart and let them fall to her sides. She felt oddly vulnerable, but she knew she needed to seem open, receptive, to whatever he said.

His hand, resting on the post, tightened into a fist. “I told Bates to open the door. Elizabeth asked him not to.” He fell silent again, his mouth a hard line. At last, he tilted his head back, gazing up at the criss-crossing framework of the stairwell above him, and let out a sigh. “I overruled her.”

He gently beat his fist against the post, before he thrust off and, with another two quick strides, was back by Kate’s side, once more staring out at the darkening towers and flat ocean. He shook his head. “I undermined her.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

He turned and met Kate’s gaze with his own unhappy one. She had to steel herself not to shy away from the self-reproach she saw on his face.

“I didn’t trust her,” he admitted. His voice shook slightly. “Didn’t trust her to make the right calls.” He bit his lip and looked away. “The truth? I think I was mostly mad at myself for forgetting my radio. I had no idea what was going on until it came on citywide.” He shook his head. “I should have been in ops, and I was stuck in the wrong damn place because of my own damn carelessness….” He sighed. “I didn’t like being out of the loop, and I took it out on Elizabeth. Made it her fault. Convinced myself I was the only one who could handle things….” He closed his eyes and a pained look crossed his face. “Course, I just made it worse by letting Peterson use a transporter and get to the mess hall.”

Kate supposed nearly being responsible for the deaths of a third of your colleagues was apt to classify as a bad day, even in Pegasus, even for John Sheppard. Yet she didn’t see why he was being quite so hard on himself about this particular incident. “We all mess up sometimes, John,” she pointed out quietly.

“Sometimes?” He opened his eyes and gave her an incredulous look. “There I was, telling myself Elizabeth couldn’t handle things, when I’m the one who’s been screwing up _everything_ the past few weeks.”

“Everything?” Kate let her disbelief show in her voice. Sure, it had been a difficult time lately. After today, she could see why he might have gotten it into his head he was personally responsible for all their troubles. But if he stopped and thought about it for a moment….

“Everything.” He spat the word at her, and she couldn’t help flinching. Glaring at her, he shoved away from the railing and began pacing across the width of the balcony. Kate was reminded of a caged tiger she’d once seen in a zoo on a trip to Europe. He even had the same unhappy sway to his head.

“That planet where we found the downed Wraith ship? I was the one who agreed to checking it out without a proper team. Elizabeth trusted me when I said we'd be fine. It was my job to make sure the ship was clear before I sent Abrams and Gaul off on their own. Shouldn't have mattered what the lifesigns detector said.” He was spitting words at her like bullets from his P-90. “I was the one wanted to get the puddlejumper back instead of waiting for Elizabeth to send another one.” He slammed the flat of his palm against the wall, pushing himself off to stalk past her again. “It was me got Kolya so riled up he nearly executed Elizabeth and Rodney. I negotiated with the Menarians and didn’t notice they were double crossing us. I trusted the Athosians and didn’t want to listen to Bates complaining we were handing out GDOs like candy bars.”

He turned and glared at her, his hand tightening on his pistol. “Oh, yeah, and let’s not forget the small matter of waking all the Wraith.”

Kate's hands had found and gripped one of the lower railings as her gaze fixed on John's sidearm. Clients normally didn't bring weapons to counseling sessions. She had a fleeting moment to wonder whether she should have asked for any of the military personnel who came to see her to be relieved of their sidearms on a permanent basis, and whether that would make things better or worse. Time to think about that later. She concentrated her attention back on John's face, and tried to keep the tremor out of her voice when she spoke.

“So you've made some bad calls.” He looked as if he was about to start again, and she loosened her grip on the railing and held up her hand to prevent him. “But they've not _all_ been bad. I don't think we'd be standing her having this conversation if you hadn't gotten a few things right along the way.”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to argue. Then his shoulders dropped, the fight going out of him. He came and leant next to her again, his head in his hands. She turned, resting one elbow on the railing so she could look down at him, feeling the adrenaline draining out of her. She waited, allowing him to gather his thoughts before she prompted him again.

Before she felt the need to break the silence, he lifted his head a little and ran a hand through his hair. He let his palm rest on the back on his neck, while his other hand curled into a loose first. His voice when he spoke was low, weary. “Not enough.” He shook his head. “I can't afford to keep making this many mistakes.”

Kate felt a sudden urge to reach out and smooth down the spikes of hair he'd scrubbed up. She folded her hands together and once more gave him space to marshal his thoughts.

Again, he sighed. “All this time, I've been telling myself Elizabeth's too cautious, too careful, won’t take necessary risks. I got it into my head she was afraid to make decisions. Hid behind wanting more intel so she didn’t have to make hard choices. But it was me, rushing into things. I was the one who didn't want to take the time to think things through, evaluate the situation properly.”

“Because you were in the middle of a crisis and knew you didn't have much time,” she reminded him.

Head still bent, he nodded. “Yes. But that's no excuse.”

She thought back to the missions he'd mentioned. “What did you do that got Kolya so mad?”

He shrugged. “Hid the C4. Killed his men.”

“And does anything you know about Kolya suggest you should have done things differently?” Part of her worried about pushing him like this, in case she drove him away completely, but she knew he badly needed a sense of perspective. “Do you think he wouldn't have killed Rodney and Elizabeth anyway? Or taken them back to his planet to work for the Genii or to trade for something else?”

“I guess not.” He still sounded doubtful.

“And when you went into the Wraith ship, did you have any reason to think there were still live Wraith around?” She felt her confidence growing.

That produced a shrug. “I knew they didn't... don't show up on the lifesigns detectors when they're hibernating.”

“So does Rodney.” Kate's allowed her tone to become a little acerbic. “Wasn't he the one who told you the ship was clear? What do you think would happen if you stopped and questioned and double checked everything Rodney told you?”

He snorted. “You mean apart from getting an earful?” She was glad to see his sense of humor seemed to be returning. He sighed. “We'd probably be dead several times over.”

“Exactly.” She couldn't help sounding a little triumphant. “You trusted Rodney. If anyone screwed up, it was him.”

“I guess.” He looked up and gave her a weak grin. “Won't be telling _him_ that. The whining's bad enough already.”

“Right.” She returned the smile. “It'll be our secret.” She paused before she plunged on. “But you don't trust Elizabeth?”

His grin vanished, to be replaced by a frown. He hesitated and dropped his gaze again. At last, he said quietly, “I guess not really, no.” He puffed out his cheeks.

Kate bit her lip. She sensed he badly wanted to be able to trust Elizabeth, to have confidence in her decisions and her orders, to not find himself second guessing her all the time. It would make his own task so much simpler. “It's OK, John.” She tried to kept her tone as soothing as possible without sounding patronising. “Trust is a pretty tricky thing. Not easily given or easily earned.” A slight nod of agreement from him reassured her it was safe to go on. “Why do you think you have trouble trusting Elizabeth?”

Once again, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “I guess because she's a civilian.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I don't just mean because she's not in the chain of command, with a fancy rank I'm supposed to respect. It's....” Once more he straightened, gazing out over the city but, Kate suspected, not really seeing it. “I guess it's because she 's never really been in combat,” he said slowly. “So she doesn't know what it's like to make decisions under fire. To be in a position where if you don't do something _right now_ , you're gonna get killed. When you just don't have time to get a second opinion or wait for that extra bit of intel, just to be sure.” He half turned to face Kate, a troubled look in his eyes. “Solders who freeze get themselves killed pretty quick. Commanders who freeze get a lot of other people killed pretty quick.”

Kate nodded. “That's true. But maybe you're not giving Elizabeth enough credit.” He raised an eyebrow. “She's negotiated some pretty hefty deals in her time. The sort where a lot of people could die if she got it wrong. The president – your C-in-C – thought enough of her to put her in charge of the SGC to negotiate with the Goa'uld.”

“I guess so.” He looked away again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “But it's more than that. She's never had to give an order knowing someone, maybe everyone, isn't gonna make it back.” His voice took on a hard edge. “Because it's the right thing to do. The only thing to do. End of debate.” He fell silent, gazing out with lowered brows over the city.

Kate looked down, suddenly aware of the gulf between them. Not as if death was something casual to John Sheppard: he'd sell his life, and the lives of those around him, as dearly as possible. But it was familiar, in a way she – and, she suspected, Elizabeth – found almost incomprehensible. She realised she'd never even seen a dead person, except on TV. And probably neither had Elizabeth before she stepped through the Stargate.

Another sigh from John drew her attention back. “I don't trust her because I don't trust she has it in her to do that,” he admitted. He looked back at Kate. “Or to do it quickly enough, and not waste time looking for other options, to the point where we're screwed whatever we do.”

Kate nodded “That makes sense. This isn't what either of you were doing a few months ago.” She squinted down at her hands, twisting against each other, as she thought it through. “Elizabeth... she's used to making split-second decisions when she’s had a week to prepare for a negotiation, and losing even a single life feels like failure to her. You? You’re used to making decisions in a heartbeat with whatever information you have to hand. And you're used to risking lives – including your own – on a regular basis. But you've never really had to think beyond getting out of whatever crap you're currently personally in the middle of.” Looking up, she caught the amused look that had settled on his face. She blushed. “Is that fair?”

He kept his smirk for a moment longer before he softened it into a smile. “Yes” The smile slipped away. “I guess what you're saying is that _neither_ of us is to be trusted.”

Kate almost stamped her foot in exasperation. “No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm saying the two of you do things differently – and Atlantis needs _all_ of that.” She jabbed a finger at him. “So _you_ need to trust Elizabeth can make the right calls – but you also need to go on trusting yourself, because Elizabeth needs your experience and advice and help if we're going to have _any_ chance of surviving this.” She shook her head. “Sure, you're going to screw up from time to time, both of you, because you're only human. And you can carry on beating yourself up about that if you want.” She shrugged. “But that means you'll only make even more bad decisions while you’re thinking you have to redeem yourself, or whatever it is you think you have to do. Or,” she paused to emphasise what she was about to say, “you can accept you made some mistakes, forgive yourself – because everyone else has – and learn from them so you don't make them again....”

She trailed off as she looked up into his face and realised his eyes had narrowed and his lips were pressed tightly together. She was suddenly afraid she had overstepped the mark by a very, very long way, and she wondered what kind of damage she'd done. She held her breath while his gaze bored into her. Then he closed his eyes and gave a snort of laughter.

“You know, I think I'd almost rather go twelve rounds with Teyla and her Bantos Sticks.” He opened his eyes again and smiled down at her. The mischievous glint that had been missing all evening was back.

“Might knock more sense into you,” she retorted dryly, feeling the tension drain out of her.

“I don't think so.” His face grew serious again, but without the strain he'd showed earlier. He made as if to speak, then stopped, as if unsure what to say. His frown deepened a little before he finally found his voice. “Look, I know this trust thing won't be easy... but... you really helped me get a few things straight... or as straight as they're going to get.” The smile came back, and he caught her gaze and held it. “Thank you, Kate.”

She flushed, feeling a little bit like a deer caught in a car's headlights. His charm was certainly... overpowering when he chose to use it. She turned her head and looked out over the city. “You're welcome,” she murmured.

He settled himself back next to her. Side by side, silent yet companionable, they watched the last of the sun's red glare fade away. The lights of Atlantis pricked out brightly as darkness fell.


	6. Chapter 6 (Sanctuary)

_Survived the evening. But why do I have to make life so complicated...?_  
  
Kate reluctantly packed her datapad away. While her fingers busied themselves with the straps on her backpack, her gaze wandered around the lab where she had been working intermittently for the past two weeks. The place had started to feel quite homey, and she was sorry to be leaving it behind again for a few more days. Apart from the fact it was stuffed with fascinating Ancient technology, it was peaceful. No Rodney. No other patients demanding her attention and energy. No John Sheppard.  
  
She hoped the couple of days she was spending each week in the lab would help her deal with the stresses of her counselling work. As well as... other things. Still, she couldn't go on hiding out here forever. She had responsibilities she couldn't duck out of, and questions she didn't want people to ask. Shouldering the backpack, she stepped through the door to where the marine who had been assigned as her guard waited to escort her back to the central tower.  
  
Returning her nod, he fell into step beside her. She felt sorry for him: it must be very dull duty. Although she couldn't imagine anyone actually wanting to spend their days getting their butts shot at by Wraith, she didn't think any soldier signed up in order to stand in a corridor for eight hours protecting a scientist from the very remote risk of attack by an undiscovered menace lurking in the far reaches of Atlantis. If it had been her choice, she wouldn't have had any guard at all, but Major Sheppard had insisted. At least he'd assigned her a marine who seemed blissfully taciturn.  
  
At least she was out here in the first place. Carson had raised his eyebrows when she'd first asked to be assigned some kind of project. _More work? Are you sure? If you're already stressed...._ She'd tried to explain that what she needed was something neutral, familiar, undemanding, different.... She'd tried not to look too evasive as she gave him enough of the truth to convince him, without letting him probe more deeply into her motives. Because, even to Carson, she couldn't admit what was really going on. Perhaps he'd picked up on her reticence: he'd still looked unsure, even as he agreed to discuss it with the senior management team.  
  
A few days later, she'd found herself in the conference room with Elizabeth, Carson, Rodney and John. Kate had made sure she arrived early and was settled into her seat before the others filed in. This was their terrain; she'd only been to two or three general briefings in here since she arrived. The last thing she wanted was to start the meeting flustered. She also hoped she'd have a chance to judge the mood of the others.  
  
Rodney seemed distracted and, as he often did in public, almost ignored her. It was a habit that irritated her, but she understood his need to pretend that she didn't know more about him than almost anyone else on the base. Carson put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he passed behind her to take a seat further round the table. Elizabeth looked tired. From the way she nodded at Kate with an absent look, before immediately tapping away at her datapad, Kate guessed she had too many things on her mind and was trying to remember what this meeting was supposed to be about.  
  
John breezed in last, flashing one of his lazy, charming smiles around the room. He looked more relaxed than he'd seemed on their past few encounters, and Kate felt distinctly annoyed. _Well, good for him that he's doing OK_ , she thought sourly. _Glad one of us is._ Then she noticed how carefully he arranged himself in a casual pose that didn't quite disguise the underlying tension that thrummed through him. Something made her look across at Rodney: he was glaring at John. Irritated at the major's lack of punctuality? Or still angry with the way he'd behaved?  
  
"I'll be honest with you, Dr Heightmeyer....Kate." Kate's attention was pulled back to Elizabeth as the Atlantis expedition leader started to speak. She smiled at Kate as she moved to the more informal mode of address. "I've wanted someone to make a start on this project ever since we found the lab a few weeks back. With your skills, you were the obvious choice. But Carson asked me to hold off. He said you had enough on your plate. So," Elizabeth tipped her head and gave Kate a penetrating but not unkind look, "perhaps you could tell me why I'd be right to trust you with this, when I, when Atlantis needs you to keep doing what you're doing."  
  
Kate's mind raced. It was a fair enough question. Yet when Carson had told her that Elizabeth wanted to brief her on a project, she hadn't expected to have to justify her request in the presence of the whole senior management team. Rodney she could understand being there – he was the ultimate head of the science contingent, after all – but she wasn't quite sure why John was in on this discussion.  
  
She took a deep breath and tried not to become defensive. Instead, she used a technique learnt in counselling to give herself space to think before she spoke. "Why should you trust me with this? I appreciate your concern, Dr Weir. I understand that you need me to keep doing what I'm doing." As she fell into the practised routine of reflecting back what the other person was saying, Kate relaxed a little. "Rest assured, I'm not looking to abandon or even cut back on my counselling duties."  
  
She paused and turned to smile at Carson. "I also appreciate Dr Beckett's concern for my workload." She wondered what kind of desperate signals she'd been giving off to him for the past few weeks for him to give that advice to Elizabeth – and why he hadn't confronted her about them. "But, with all due respect, I didn't request not to be assigned other work. I didn't even realise Dr Beckett had made that recommendation."  
  
She turned back to Elizabeth and fixed her gaze on her, carefully keeping it away from anyone else at the table. "Counseling work _can_ be stressful." She kept her voice firm, strong. She was the psychology professional here, after all. Let them think she'd calmly and rationally diagnosed her own symptoms and prescribed her own therapy – even if that was light years away from the truth. "It can be particularly stressful when it's all you do, when you don't get to do what you were hoping to do when you signed up for a one-way trip through a wormhole, and when it was something you got out of back on Earth because you didn't feel you were suited to it." She sat back a little, her hands clasped on the table and gave a small shrug. "It may sound selfish, but I honestly think I'll be a better counselor if you also allow me to work on something else that's more my field."  
  
Elizabeth was silent while she scrutinised Kate, but Kate read doubt in the way she pursed her mouth. She returned Elizabeth's look steadily, determined to exude a confidence she didn't feel. At last, Elizabeth nodded. "Very well." She turned slightly to her left. "Rodney?"  
  
"What? Oh. Yes." Rodney scrabbled at his laptop.  
  
Kate, turning her attention to him, realised he had been staring across the table at John while she and Elizabeth talked. It looked very much like he _was_ still bothered by the major's actions and attitude. Kate suppressed a sigh. If it hadn't been for Rodney insisting on some impromptu counseling at half past eight in the evening, probably none of them would be sitting round the table right now. She couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. Pushing her memories of the session aside, she focused on what Rodney was saying now.  
  
"We found this lab on the east pier," Rodney waved a hand in what Kate presumed was an easterly direction. "Well, we found a lot of labs on the east pier, but the Ancients seem to have been using this particular lab to develop some kind of system for accelerated learning. Plug yourself in for an hour, come out with a degree in astrophysics...."  
  
"Or," Elizabeth interrupted, apparently wanting to make sure Kate understood the real priorities of the project, "be able to read Ancient perfectly." She smiled at Kate. "Which would be a far more useful skill."  
  
"Yes, yes," Rodney snapped. "Anyway, we need to understand how it works and whether it's safe for humans. Ancient brains being wired a little differently to ours. And that," he pointed at Kate, "is where you come in."  
  
They discussed the details of a project for another half an hour. Whether Kate's own skills reading Ancient were sufficient for her to translate the database without help. If she needed a teammate with medical expertise. What about someone versed in Ancient technology? Kate found it harder and harder to keep her temper in check as she fended off one well-meaning attempt after another to saddle her with a lab partner. Kate knew this project wasn't being arranged simply for her personal convenience, but did none of them understand her need to get away from people?  
  
At last the science seem to be settled. Elizabeth turned to the major who, one arm slung over the back of his seat, the other hand resting on the table, looked slightly bored by the discussion. "John?"  
  
He nodded. "I'll make sure Doctor Heightmeyer has an escort."  
  
An escort? Kate froze for a moment. She'd – finally – successfully managed to head off being accompanied by another scientist. Now she had to put up with a soldier trailing her every move? "Major, I really don't think that's necessary...."  
  
"I do." His reply cut off her protest. He straightened in his chair and leant forward, his voice clipped, his face hardening. "It's standard operating procedure for any team working outside the central tower area to include a military escort. I'm not letting you," he hesitated a moment, "or any other scientist wander around on their own out there without protection."  
  
He held her gaze until Kate had to look away. "Yes, of course," she murmured. Had there been more than concern for mere protocol in his words? She squashed the thought down and looked back at him. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't assign anybody I'm counseling. You have a list?"  
  
He nodded. Elizabeth picked up her datapad and tapped it lightly on the table. "Well, I believe we're done. Thank you, everyone."  
  
There was a scraping of chairs. "Kate?" Elizabeth's voice cut through the noise of people leaving. "Could I speak with you for a moment longer?" She came around the table.  
  
Closer to, Kate noticed how deeply lined her eyes seemed to be. Had those wrinkles always been there, or were there new ones? Had they grown more pronounced since that first long interview, back on Earth, when Elizabeth had been deciding whether to make Kate part of her team.  
  
Elizabeth rested her datapad on the table and waited until the room cleared. Then she turned her gaze back to Kate. "I'm sorry this is such a strain on you," she offered. "I know it's not what you signed up for."  
  
Kate gave her a wry smile. "That applies to all of us." She concentrated on shutting down her datapad before she looked up at Elizabeth again. "I'll be fine. It's just that sometimes therapy relationships can become...," Kate searched for the kindest word. It would be unfair to give Elizabeth the impression this was all the fault of her clients. Eventually she settled for "Unhealthy. I just need... a little time that I can call my own, some distance."  
  
"From Rodney?" Elizabeth couldn't keep the cynical edge from her voice.  
  
Kate looked away. She suspected Rodney had a tendency to crash into Elizabeth's office unannounced and at the most inconvenient times as well. She wondered how Elizabeth dealt with him. She suppressed a sigh. "Amongst others, yes," she admitted.  
  
"If you really want to be alone, I could talk to-."  
  
"No." Kate swiftly interrupted her. She didn't want to have to open that argument again. "John... Major Sheppard is right. I should have an escort."  
  
Kate felt a sudden stillness in Elizabeth, a tension to her. Looking up, she caught Elizabeth's raised eyebrow. Kate cursed herself for the slip as a thoughtful look settled over Elizabeth's face.  
  
"Kate, are you seeing Major Sheppard?"  
  
Kate tried not to jump. For a wild moment, she wondered what Elizabeth was referring to. Then – Kate berated herself for considering any other option – she realised she just meant professionally.  
  
Elizabeth was gesturing at her datapad. "He's not on your list."  
  
"Not formally," Kate forced herself to meet Elizabeth's gaze, and mustered as honest and transparent an expression as she could manage. "We've talked a few times, off the record."  
  
Again Elizabeth arched her eyebrow. "Anything I should know about?"  
  
Kate shook her head. "He just needed a friendly ear once in a while." She gave Elizabeth a penetrating look of her own. "Much like yourself."  
  
A frown creased Elizabeth's forehead; she fidgeted with her datapad. Kate felt like she'd used a low trick to deflect the focus of the conversation onto her, and she tried to soften and disguise the ruse. After all, she didn't want to put Elizabeth off seeking help if she needed it. She wouldn't serve Atlantis at all well if she did that. "You do know if you need to talk, I'm here," she hastily pointed out. "Any time. I'm always available"  
  
"Of course...."  
  
Elizabeth's words sounded distant as Kate's own statement echoed in her head. _Stupid... stupid... Why can I never learn?_  
  
Elizabeth had paused, watching as Kate unconsciously rubbed her temples and sighed. "What is it?" The Atlantis expedition leader's voice carried a genuinely worried note.  
  
Kate grimaced. "See, that's the kind of stupid thing I say and shouldn't." She shook her head, angry at herself. "Just because _you_ can't sleep at two in the morning doesn't mean you should come and wake me up and expect me to do something about it." She looked up at Elizabeth, and added bitterly. "I'm no good at setting boundaries and expectations." She shrugged. "That's why I need this project. I need people to see I'm not a round-the-clock service."  
  
Elizabeth had laid a gentle hand on Kate's arm and nodded. "I hope it helps."  
  
Making her way back to her office, Kate had hoped it would help too.  
  
Her mind had drifted back to the conversation with Rodney three evenings before. She had been tidying up her notes from the day's sessions when he arrived. Opening the door to him, she found him shifting from one foot to another, shaking a loosely clenched fist up and down in front of him while he waited. She recognised the signs. Her heart sank. She opened her mouth but, before she had a chance to either invite him in or turn him away, he pushed past her.  
  
“Need to talk,” he announced brusquely.  
  
Kate sighed, but stood her ground by the door. “Won't it wait until tomorrow, Rodney? I could fit you in first thing.”  
  
“No! He's out there right now! Jeopardizing the safety of everyone on Atlantis!"  
  
She turned, frowning. "Rodney, what are you talking about?"  
  
“Major Sheppard," he snarled. She was surprised at the level of antagonism in his voice. "He's out there on the south west pier being sweet-talked by some alien woman we know _nothing_ about, except she lit up the internal sensors like a Christmas tree. She's probably worming his security code and all our defence plans out of him right now...."  
  
There was a roaring in Kate's ears and her vision blurred. She put a hand on the door frame to steady herself.  
  
“What do you think? Kate? Kate?” Rodney's voice snapped her back.  
  
“I'm sorry, Rodney.” She flushed. “You, er...,” she caught herself stuttering and took a deep breath. “You've caught me a bit on the hop. I wasn't expecting anyone this late." She gestured to the couch. "Could you run that past me again a bit more slowly?”  
  
He pulled a face, but did have the grace to look a little abashed. “You know we have a visitor?" He sat down. "The priestess," his tone was acerbic, "from the planet we visited today."  
  
Kate sat opposite him and nodded. She'd heard someone mention it in the mess hall when she'd gotten dinner earlier.  
  
“Right now, Major Sheppard is out on the south west pier with her, showing her the best view,” Rodney made air quotes, “whatever that means.... And Doctor Weir seems to think the possibility of Sheppard using his charm to secure us a treaty is worth the risk he'll compromise Atlantis to a woman we know nothing about, except she clearly isn't who she says she is, and she had him wrapped round her finger from the moment he laid eyes on her." Rodney suddenly slumped back in his seat, deflated. "And I don't know if I'm seeing a problem that really exists – since no one else seems bothered by it – or just...." He hesitated, before dropping his voice so that Kate had to lean forward to catch him mutter the word "jealous".  
  
Kate found herself falling back on parroting Rodney's words in an attempt to give herself time to make sense of his tale. Her own thinking still seemed to be somewhat muddled. Images of John were flashing through her mind: smiling out at the spires of Atlantis as the sun set beyond them; letting that wry grin twitch the corner of his mouth as he tried not to laugh; his eyes bright and passionate as he talked about flying or football or his grandparents' ranch; his face shadowed and serious as he turned to grimmer subjects.  
  
"Jealous... of Major Sheppard?" she heard herself stutter.  
  
Rodney, rightly, gave her a contemptuous glare. "Of course of Major Sheppard," he repeatedly heavily.  
  
Kate pushed the thoughts away and focused on Rodney's slight sneer. "And what, in particular, do you think you might be jealous of, Rodney?"  
  
He gave her a pointed, even pained, look. "Oh, I don't know. Could it be that it was Major Sheppard that the beautiful, scantily dressed alien woman was making googly eyes at, and not me?"  
  
Of course she was beautiful, Kate thought sourly. Wasn't there research that said that people naturally sought out partners whose attractiveness was a similar level to their own. The plain stuck with the plain. And someone like John Sheppard would surely be attracted to – and expect to have his interest returned by – the most gorgeous woman in the room. While she and Rodney.... Kate raised an eyebrow at the notion that Rodney, of all people, would value looks over brains.  
  
"Do you want her to be making googly eyes at you?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.  
  
Rodney sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. It would be nice if just once...." He pulled himself up. "Anyway, that's beside the point. The point is: do I not trust her just because I'm jealous of Sheppard's ability to win friends and influence people, or because I'm right, and there really is something very wrong about her, and she's not who she claims to be?"  
  
Kate battled against the thoughts raging around her head, trying to work out how to help Rodney sort through the muddle of his feelings. After a moment, she countered his question with one of her own. "How would you feel if it was Doctor Weir who was making a new friend on the south west pier, rather than Major Sheppard?"  
  
"Hmmph." Rodney creased his forehead in concentration. "Honestly? I'm having trouble imagining Elizabeth being that ready to trust someone that much that quickly. So, yes, it would still bother me."  
  
"And what if it was an alien priest?" He looked puzzled at the question. "How do you think you'd react if Major Sheppard was behaving like this with an alien man, rather than an alien woman?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Apart from being deeply disturbed?" He shook his head to wave away her protest that he take her seriously. "I know what you mean. Fair question. You know," he paused, clearly thinking it through. "Sheppard turns on the charm with anything with a pulse." He shook his head. "I'm not sure he even knows he's doing it half the time. But I've never seen him drop his own guard so completely and so quickly. Even with someone that hot...."  
  
Rodney's voice trailed off. Kate waited, part of her mind, the part that was focused on Rodney letting him make his own connections, the other part sunk in numb misery. Rodney was right: John was equally charming, equally personable to everyone. And meant very little by it.  
  
Breaking into her thoughts, she heard Rodney mutter at last, "It's not right. Even if she's who she claims to be, Sheppard's behaving like a complete idiot, like he's thinking with his...." Rodney checked himself abruptly and looked up at Kate. He turned bright red. "Well, you know. And he's using Atlantis to impress her like it's, like it's his dad's car. Except we're going to end up with more than a dented fender and having his allowance stopped for a month." Again, he cut himself off and shot Kate an embarrassed look. "Well." He puffed out his cheeks, slapped his knees with his palms and got to his feet. "Whatever's going on, it's not good, and someone needs to put a stop to it."  
  
Kate nodded weakly as Rodney, re-energised, strode from the room. She scarcely noticed that he had failed to thank her. Alone at last, she crossed to the window and leant her head against the cool pane, glad she couldn't see the south west pier from her office.  
  
Why should it matter so much to her if John was spending time with someone else? She suspected that, like Elizabeth, he had few close friends. She should be glad he'd found someone to connect with. And yet....  
  
She couldn't deny that the feeling that had welled up in her – assaulted her, even – was jealousy, pure and simple. As she had encouraged Rodney to do, she altered the scenario. What if it were Carson showing this woman around? Would she mind so much?  
  
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. No. The answer was no. She not only wouldn't mind, she'd be happy he'd begun to form new relationships after the loss of Perna. No matter what permutations she ran through her head, it was only the thought of John Sheppard and another woman that troubled her. Was it that he'd met her only a few hours before and yet seemed to have given her the friendship that it had taken Kate weeks to secure? Yes, that hurt, but there was more. She imagined John smiling, laughing, moving closer....  
  
Her eyes snapped open. She pushed away from the window, at the same time fending off the thought of how nice it would be to reach out and smooth his ruffled hair, and to see that grin fade in the moments before he brought his lips down on to hers....  
  
Enough! Transference. It was just transference. Kate paced across the room. She'd mistaken the empathy she felt for him as she counseled him for something else. That was all. Hadn't she got out of counseling years back because she'd lacked the necessary detachment from her patients, and found it too hard to avoid words and actions that seemed to encourage clients to fixate on her. Look at the way Rodney treated her, for goodness' sake!  
  
If only she could step away from it all as easily as she'd abandoned counseling last time. If only she was spending her days doing what she came here to do, and her evenings enjoying normal friendships, instead of this crazy half-life. If only she wasn't in a closed community where there was no escape, nowhere to go. If only...  
  
Kate had stopped dead and taken a deep breath. _If wishes were horses then beggars would ride!_ Whining about what she couldn't change wasn't going to get her anywhere. What _could_ she do? Set some boundaries, get some distance, get some perspective....  
  
Finding herself next to her desk, she sat down and rested her head in her hands while she thought. She never expected John to turn up every evening: sometimes he was off-world, a few times he'd been in the infirmary, the rest of the time, she assumed, he was busy or had something better to do. But he always expected to find her there. Just like Rodney always expected to find her in her office and ready to talk.  
  
Pulling her datapad towards her, she'd called up her schedule. If she shifted a few people around, she could free up a couple of spare days. Days when she could make herself scarce, not be where people expected her to be. That was the answer. The gossip in the mess hall was that they were finding a lot of interesting stuff in labs out on the piers. She'd talk to Carson first thing in the morning about finding her something to work on. And then, maybe, she'd be able to get these ridiculous emotions under control....  
  
Now, two weeks later, she had the satisfaction of knowing she was finally contributing to the research on Atlantis, as well as managing to put her relationship with John Sheppard on a safer footing. Or, at the very least, managing to avoid him for almost a fortnight. Between the excuses of getting back late from the lab or spending her evenings preparing for her next visit, or making sure she only made the trip down to the balcony when she knew he was off-world, she'd ensured they hadn't met again.  
  
She missed it, of course. Without a touch of fresh air each evening, she wasn't sleeping well. What little normal conversation she'd had seemed to have disappeared almost entirely, apart from a few passing pleasantries in the mess hall. Yet she was safe, safe from making a terrible mistake, for herself and for the Atlantis expedition.  
  
Of course, she couldn't avoid him completely. It would be too suspicious. Looked like he might be wondering what was going on already. Only this morning he'd stopped her as she was leaving the mess hall, and first enquired quietly if she was satisfied with the marine he'd assigned to her, and then – even more quietly – asked her if she was going to be admiring the sunset that evening. It had seemed impossible to say anything but yes.  
  
Stepping out of the transporter in the central tower, and saying goodnight to her silent guard, she headed for her quarters, steeling herself for the coming encounter. By the time she'd dropped her datapad off in her office, showered and changed, grabbed some dinner, and gone back to her office to pick up her journal, which she'd forgotten the first time, it was two hours later. She wasn't surprised, when she made the final turn on the stairs, to find him there before her.  
  
A smile lit up his face as she approached, smoothing away the frown lines around his eyes. "There you are. Wasn't sure you'd come."  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" Too snippy, she told herself angrily. Too defensive.  
  
He arched an eyebrow. "Just haven't seen you in a while. Thought you might be avoiding me." He gave her one of his irritatingly disarming grins. So sure of himself.  
  
"I've been busy." She knew she was sounding short, cold, that she needed to relax, but a knot had formed in her stomach at seeing him again. She couldn't quite meet his gaze. Which only directed her attention to the way a stray spike of hair begged to be smoothed back from his forehead. She turned away to lean on the railing and stare out over the city.  
  
He rested his arms next to hers. "So, how's the new project going."  
  
"Good." She seized with relief on a safe, neutral topic. "Mind you, the Ancients weren't much on instruction manuals, were they? I'm trying to work out if _our_ brains can handle the sensory input or if they'll overload. And whether that'll just give you a headache, or create more serious damage. Then, of course, assuming our brains can store the information, can we actually access it? The Ancients seemed to have much more control over their mental abilities." She glanced up and caught a smirk on his face. "What?"  
  
He laughed. "Didn't expect a briefing."  
  
"Well, pardon me for being so _dull._ " The retort was out of her mouth before she had time to think better of it.  
  
He almost took a step back. "Not dull," he assured her hastily. "Sure could have used something like that when I was taking my navigation exams." He frowned. "Is everything OK? If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been spending too much time talking to McKay."  
  
Kate gripped the railing more tightly and tried to find an even tone. "Just tired." She sighed. She was making such a bad job of this. Maybe she should cut it short. "Look, was there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about?"  
  
"Not really, no." He turned to face her, leaning on one elbow, and gave a shrug. "I just missed talking to you. Hanging out together. And it's been a while since we did that."  
  
"Oh." Did he really mean that? Even so, he only saw her as a friend, nothing more. And she'd better be careful to see him the same way. She mustered a smile and tried her best to sound grateful. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not better company this evening."  
  
"It's OK." They lapsed into silence. Kate wondered if she could manage to get away with spending the next hour like that. He was a good person to be quiet with. Unlike Rodney, who was always jittery, most of the time John radiated a stillness, a sense of contentment and containment that was immensely restful. Even now, when she knew he was looking at her, wondering.  
  
"Hey." He broke the silence. "Got an idea. We never did watch that Flutie game. How 'bout we go do that. Kick back for a few hours, argue over who's the best quarterback of all time...? Can't offer you any beer or pizza, but maybe we can rustle up a pot of Athosian tea and some of those seaweed cracker things they make."  
  
She almost turned him down automatically. Then she realised it was a way to get him off her back by spending a few hours with him, while keeping conversation to a minimum, and to safe topics. Maybe they'd even attract some company to reduce the heat on her still further. "Sure." She forced herself to sound enthusiastic. "That sounds like fun." She turned and gestured him ahead of her. "You get the tape, I'll organise refreshments."

  
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	7. Chapter 7 (Before I Sleep)

_We all sacrifice so much. Too much? But, in the circumstances, what else can we do?_

Kate turned away from her journal and rested her elbow on the railing. She leant her chin on her hand and looked out over the city. Just as beautiful as ever. Just as vulnerable as ever. But maybe now there was hope. The chance of finding a ZPM. Which meant getting the defenses online. Maybe even going home.

The sky was clouded today, and the spires shimmered only softly in the diffuse light, but it was still breathtaking. After the often relentlessly predictable California weather, it was a wonder and mystery to her the way the view was never two days the same here. Would she ever tire of it? Would she miss it if she returned to earth?

An event which no longer seemed quite so impossible. Doctor Weir had come to tell her the news two days ago. As Kate welcomed her into her office and offered her a seat, she noted the dark shadows under Elizabeth's eyes..

"I'm sure the mess hall will be buzzing soon enough." Elizabeth crossed her legs and clasped her hands on her knees. "But I wanted to make sure you were properly briefed. We already know one of the ZPMs is on M7G-677." As Kate gave her a blank look, she added hastily. "The planet with the children. And the others may either be similarly in use, or exhausted, or simply no longer there."

Kate nodded. "You may need me to help manage people's expectations?"

Elizabeth gave her a warm smile, apparently pleased Kate had got the message so quickly. "Yes. It's possible none of the ZPMs will be any help." She flexed her fingers restlessly. "It's not as if everyone didn't understand it might be a one-way trip." Her voice carried a note of cynicism. "But I guess we all hoped we'd find more ZPMs. And when we didn't...," she shrugged, "I think most people had started to accept we wouldn't be going back. Now there's a possibility again...." She gave a nervous laugh, and tilted her head to one side. "I have to admit, I was rather excited myself at being handed five gate addresses that might lead us to a ZPM."

"I can imagine." Kate knew how her own heart had leapt at the news just a few minutes before.

But, even as Kate formed the words, Elizabeth's expression sobered and she dropped her eyes "Getting the defenses online too," she murmured. "It would be nice to have more than small arms and a few drones in puddlejumpers when the Wraith turn up. Anyway," she unclasped her hands and placed them on the seat either side of her, as if about to push off. "I hope it doesn't create too much extra work for you, but I wanted to make sure you had the full facts when you talk to people. I'll ask Major Sheppard to keep you updated on our progress with the addresses."

Kate nodded, distracted for a moment by an unbidden and unwelcome memory of John, leaning on the railing next to her and laughing. When she focused her attention back on Elizabeth, the other woman seemed to have finished what she came to say, but she still sat, poised on the edge of the couch.

As on the previous occasion Elizabeth had honored her with a visit, Kate was struck by the fact Elizabeth could have called her to her office for this briefing. Looking away to one side, she remarked casually, conversationally, "It must have been very strange to meet yourself."

"Yes." Elizabeth's voice was low. When Kate looked back at her, she saw she had linked her hands again and was staring at them, her thoughts turned inwards. "To know she... I was the only survivor." She looked up at Kate. "I know _we_ thought we were in big trouble when we arrived, but... we got through it. We muddled through, and the city saved us, because it was smart enough. I feel like I've been fooling myself, thinking that we're smart enough too, and we'll get through whatever Pegasus throws at us." She sighed. "I didn't see what a knife edge we're on. How little it might take for success to turn into failure." She quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't want to see, perhaps."

Kate looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you think you'd have acted differently if you had seen that? Do you think it would make you a better or worse leader?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't know. I guess a lot of it's outside my control. We've been lucky. And I'm not sure I like having to trust to luck."

"Yes, but I think we make our own luck too." Kate frowned, trying to remember the details of a study she'd read in which attitude influenced success. "We... can put ourselves in a position where we increase the chances of good things happening. After all," she smiled and shrugged her shoulders, "this whole mission is a Hail Mary."

Elizabeth's mouth twitched. "Did Major Sheppard tell you that."

Kate laughed softly. "As a matter of fact, he did." She shook her head in amusement. "What is it with guys and sports metaphors?"

Elizabeth joined in her laughter and some of the tension left her face. Then her expression sobered. "It's not just that, I guess. It was hearing her story. Hearing my story. That she gave up her whole life, all the things she could have been, to give _us_ the chance to live, to give us the time to explore Atlantis." Elizabeth bit her lip. "That's some sacrifice. Some strength." She closed her eyes and a pained expression crossed her face." I don't know if I'm that strong. And I need to be that strong....."

"Elizabeth?" Kate's gentle question brought the other woman's attention back to her "She's you. I have no doubt you would do what she did. That you have the strength to do what you need to do" Kate paused, and scrutinised Elizabeth carefully."You want the truth? If it was almost anyone else in charge of Atlantis, I would have expected to have seen them in my office a lot more than this. But you, you have that courage." She smiled. "I think Atlantis is very lucky in its leaders."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Major Sheppard too?"

Kate hoped the heat flooding through her wasn't obvious to the other woman. "Yes." She cleared her throat, a sudden lump making it hard to speak. "I know the two of you don't always see eye to eye, but I think you make a good team. Better than...." She stopped, aware she was about to trespass in areas that were maybe better left untouched. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, inviting her to go on. "Better than you and Colonel Sumner might have been," Kate muttered. The blush must definitely be visible now, but at least there was an explanation for it.

Elizabeth nodded. "You're right. I don't know what I'd do without John. I don't know if I would be half as strong without him as you seem to think I am. " She gave Kate a penetrating stare as she rose from her seat. "Do what you can to help _him_ too, Kate. Even if he doesn't want to be helped. Please."

Kate nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions that had flooded through her at Elizabeth's request.

When Elizabeth had gone, Kate had crossed over to the window and leaned her forehead against it, trying to compose herself before her next appointment.

She might not be spending her life making sure the Atlantis team would survive when the shield could no longer hold back the water. But wasn't she doing something similar in a way? Providing a safety net when the pressure of life in Pegasus got too much. And, like the other Elizabeth, she seemed to have put her own life, her own desires on hold for the greater good of the team.

Yet what else could she do? Reach out and try to take what she wanted? And would she be able to take a hold on it, or would it slip through her fingers? Would she bring the world crashing down on her if she tried?

Because she still wanted him. Despite her best efforts to squash her feelings or to account for them in some other way. Sure, most of the time, she could bury herself in her work and forget he existed. But whenever she saw him, her mouth went dry, her heart hammered, and she knew she was no more over him than she'd ever been.

It had got easier, of course. That first evening watching the game together had been the hardest, if less difficult than she'd feared.

There had, naturally, been the odd awkward moment. Both of them reaching for the Athosian crackers at the same time. She'd leapt back like a scalded cat, and then hoped he hadn't noticed. Yet surprising how quickly she'd got caught up in the game. Surprising, too, how passionate he still was about plays he must have seen a hundred times before, even if he was now reduced to grumpily muttering "Still hate that call."

"Oh, come on," she'd taunted him. Somehow, she couldn't resist rooting for the other side. "There was no way he was going for the ball."

"Yes, he _was_." He'd leant forward and grabbed the remote control to rewind back to the foul. "See." He'd jabbed his finger at the freeze-framed picture. "He's looking back at the ball. It was incidental contact."

"Was not." She'd nodded her head at the screen. "He's hanging all over the guy."

"Are you crazy? He barely touched him." His voice had risen in disbelief as he peered at the slightly blurred figures. "Look!"

"And you must be blind." She hadn't been able to keep the grin from her face at how easy it was to wind him up. "He has a hold of his arm, dammit."

He'd turned and, seeing her amusement, rested his elbow on the back of the couch and given her a gentle punch on the shoulder. "You're as bad as the damn ref."

She'd stuck her tongue out at him and he'd haughtily turned back to the game and hit the play button. The action started again, the same kind of argument raging between coaches and referees. But she'd scarcely noticed, suddenly aware of his hand resting close to her on the back of the couch, his long slim fingers splayed out on the white cloth. Swallowing hard, she'd leant forward and topped up her drink, making sure when she sat back that she settled herself more firmly into her corner of the couch. After a moment, he'd glanced along at her, then dropped his arm back down by his side. She resolutely focused her attention back on the game, on ensuring she delivered the appropriate oohs and aahs as it progressed, ignoring the occasional nervous looks he'd slid her from time to time.

She'd managed to avoid seeing him again for nearly another week.

This time she was prepared. Or at least she hoped she was. Really, it had been stupid of her last time not to be ready for the encounter. But, then, how could she prepare herself for rediscovering, as he came down the stairs towards her, just how damn good-looking he was.

"Hey." He smiled at her as he covered the last few steps towards her, and she couldn't help smiling back.

"Hi." Her voice sounded croaky to her. She cleared her throat and leant back against the railing, grateful for its support.

He rested an elbow on the top rail and grinned down at her. "Glad you've managed to drag yourself away from your project at last. Hardly ever see you these days." His tone was faintly accusatory, and she looked away. "Hope that means it's going well?"

"Sorry." She blushed. "Guess it is a bit all-consuming," she admitted. She shook her head. "Their research is just... well, light years ahead of what we were doing back on earth." She glanced up at him. "See, back on earth we'd been able to show that sleep affects how we learn, and even demonstrate that a particular effect is how well we can store and recall information. It's more than just not being too tired." She looked away and shook her head, as if dismissing such simple thinking. "Different kinds of sleep patterns and brain activity seem to have a different impact. But we had no idea how it worked; we've barely begun to understand the mechanisms behind memory and recall in the first place, let alone be able to manipulate them. The Ancients," again she shook her head, this time in wonder as she thought about the reams of basic research she'd been reading, "not only had a model for how those things work, but they managed to create the basis of a machine that would provide the right kind of stimulus to create the appropriate sleep-like brain activity, while you're awake and learning. They even got as far as working out what to stimulate and how depending on whether you're trying to learn a language or to use math or to remember something visual...."

She lifted her gaze to him again. He was giving her a slightly bemused look. She realised she'd been rattling away with scarcely a pause for breath for some time. The heat returned to her face. "Sorry," she said again. "Got carried away. Guess I'm kinda passionate about my work."

He grinned. "You're a scientist," he teased. "I've got used to it. And listening to you beats listening to Rodney any day."

Her blush deepened. "Well, _you_ can go on about stuff too," she said, quickly, turning the charge back round on him.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Football," she shot back.

He looked slightly hurt. "I thought you liked talking about football."

"I do." She smiled. "Was just thinking earlier that the new season starts this weekend. Kinda weird not to be able to switch on the TV or pick up the paper and get the results "

He nodded. "So, who do you think will make it to the bowl games this year."

"Michigan, of course." She laughed at the way he rolled his eyes. "Come on, it'll be thirty years since they missed out on a bowl game." She cocked her head. "I'm not saying they'll _win_ , mind you...."

"Glad to hear it." He gave her a crooked smiled. "Since my pick would be USC."

Kate grimaced as he rubbed at a sore spot, remembering her frustration of the Wolverines' loss to the Trojans in the Rose Bowl last year. She stuck her tongue out at him. "You're just cruel."

As they continued to discuss possible division winners and national champions, she congratulated herself on having shifted the topic to something neutral, even pleasurable, that would last them a while.

All too soon, the conversation petered out. Silence stretched out between them. Afraid that John might, as he did with surprising regularity, take the conversation into her personal territory, Kate cast around for a new subject.

"Hey, did you see some there's been some new food from the mainland in the mess hall?" she began desperately. "If you haven't tried it yet, there's a really great stew. A little bit like gumbo. I understand it's an Athosian recipe. And something called tuttleroot soup that's pretty good too. Nice to have some new flavours...."

"Kate?" He interrupted her enumeration of the new dishes. When she looked over at him, he had a wry grin on his face.

She shut her mouth, which had been hanging open mid-sentence. She swallowed, feeling the heat rising in her face. "What?"

"Did you find a secret stash of coffee, or something? Or was there something in that new stew?" Her confusion must have been plain, because he added gently, "You're rambling again."

"I am?"

"Yes." Once more his mouth quirked. "Could give McKay a run for his money." He grew more serious. "Is everything OK? Never seen you this... on edge before."

"Sorry." She crossed her arms "Don't know what's got into me. Guess with all this running around, I've not had a chance to wind down yet." He seemed to accept her explanation, and turned the conversation in a new direction, although she noticed he still shot her a suspicious glance from time to time.

She'd seen him a third time after that, and managed to reach some kind of equilibrium. She'd kept the conversation flowing, on safe subjects, without rambling. Yet it was an effort. By the end of the evening she had been exhausted with the struggle of watching her words and holding her gestures in check. The professional part of her couldn't help noting how his physical closeness, which a few weeks ago had seemed like a natural part of their intimacy, now seemed like an invasion of her personal space. She consciously had to prevent herself from backing away from him. She suspected that, right now, her personal space extended to the outer limits of Atlantis as far as he was concerned. And, time and again, she had to curtail her own gestures, wanting to emphasise a point by reaching out and touching his arm. Wanting, if truth be told, to do so much more.

But, whatever she wanted or felt, now was not the time to burden John with it. The last thing Major John Sheppard, ranking military officer on Atlantis, needed at the moment was to be bothered with the extra complication of a relationship. Even in the unlikely event he returned her feelings.

Kate closed her journal and glanced up. She stiffened. John was sitting half way down the stairs, hands dangling between his knees, watching her.

"Hey." He gave her a slow smile.

She hugged her journal to her chest. "How long have you been there?"

"A few minutes." He nodded in her direction. "Haven't seen you do that for a while."

"What?"

"Write in your journal."

Kate knew he could have no idea what she'd been writing about, or what she'd been thinking, but she still felt... invaded. "I thought you were off-world today," she pointed out.

He stilled for a moment, before he shrugged."Mission was a bust. Came back early. So," he grinned at her, "if you'd known I was around, you wouldn't have come down here?"

She noticed how the grin twisted his mouth, but didn't quite smooth away the tension around his eyes. She flushed. She knew her words sounded a little too accusing, like she was angry with him for being where he shouldn't have been. He was trying to pass his concern off as a joke, but she sensed he feared there might be some truth in it.

She forced herself to return his gaze coolly while she lied to him. "No. I'd have come down here. But I wouldn't have brought my journal with me. If you're here, I'd rather talk."

"Oh good." He gave her a brief smile, before he crossed his arms and rested them on his knees. "So, you heard we got a break a couple days back?"

She gave him an enquiring look, glad he seemed to have changed the topic. She let the journal fall back into her lap. "The list of planets with ZPMs? The whole city's buzzing with it. About time we got some good news."

"Wish it was better. One of them's on the planet with the kids. And the place we went to today was a complete washout. Literally. Turns out where the Ancient outpost was is now a coupla miles out to sea and, according to Rodney, probably a few hundred feet under water too. Maybe we could get at the ZPM somehow, but Rodney seems to think it's probably out of juice anyway."

"That still leaves three more...."

"Yes, it does."

His voice was determinedly bright, but Kate saw the tension in his hands as they gripped his elbows. She wondered if he thought the discomfort between them was because he was overburdening her with his troubles. She put the journal to one side and let one hand rest on it, while she pushed her hair back off her face with the other. "You don't seem very confident you'll have better luck with those."

He shrugged. "Oh, I haven't given up hope quite yet. It's just...." He paused and gave her an uncertain look. She smiled and gave the slightest nod of her head to encourage him to go on. "The... other Elizabeth.... Her story. Everybody died. I died. I..." He looked down, shaking his head slightly, almost as if trying to dislodge his doubts. "It's not as if I don't face certain death at least, oh, couple times a week. But...."

"You never really believe you're going to die?" Kate probed gently. "You never really believe it's going to happen?"

"Right. But it did. I mean, to that other John. And...." He looked back at her. "Keep thinking about all the things he didn't get to do. All the things he must have left unsaid. Don't want to face the end, whenever that comes, with regrets about what I didn't do or say."

Kate glanced away, uncomfortable with the intense scrutiny he was giving her, and the turn the conversation had taken, away from an impersonal discussion of ZPMs to a very personal admission. Was he about to come out with some revelation, some disclosure that she didn't want to hear. Her plan to distance herself from him didn't seem to be working so well when he still persisted in seeing her as a confidante. "No, I don't suppose _you_ would," she heard herself snap.

There was a silence, a stillness from him that made her look back at him. He had one eyebrow raised. "What's that supposed to mean?" Again, that slight challenge, that slight tension that hinted at some unspoken fear.

She tried to ignore it and concentrate on explaining her own remark. "Sorry. Just thinking about some psych research on personality types I was looking at before I came to Atlantis."

It seemed a long time ago and, in truth, a galaxy away. Her first time working so closely with the military, and without a regulatory board approving the research, and reining in the military's "enthusiasm" for experiments that pushed professional ethics to the limits, and occasionally beyond. She'd wanted to get a handle on how hard she might be pressed to take risks that wouldn't be countenanced back home. And what logic would help her to resist. She hadn't expected, skimming through the literature, things would get this personal.

Now, she allowed herself an ironic smile. "Seems risk-taking types like yourself tend to feel more regret if they don't do something than if they do. Even if it turns out badly."

He nodded. "Figures." He tilted her head. "What about you?"

"Me?" She crossed her arms, her smile fading.

"What would you regret?"

She took a deep breath. "I guess I believe what's said can't be unsaid. So maybe it's better not to say it?"

"And you'd rather other people kept quiet too?"

"Perhaps." She tilted her head to one side. "But I hope you know if you need to talk, I'll always listen."

"Will you?" He shifted his weight. "Kinda got the impression I might have done or said something to upset you you, and you were avoiding me." He tilted his head and gave her a beseeching look. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Her response was quick, but she bit her lip and paused, choosing her next words carefully. " _You_ haven't done anything wrong." The emphasis was slight, a sop to her conscience, and she hoped he wouldn't notice it.

He looked doubtful. "'Cause I came and dumped all that stuff on you a few weeks back, and then when you got yourself your project, you said you needed time when people weren't unloading on you.... So... was kinda wondering if that was because of me. If you were mad with me for laying all that stuff on you out of office hours. Or if...," he ran a hand through his hair, "you thought I was just using you. Like we weren't really... friends."

She bit her lip. He was so far off the mark, it was painful. "No." She shook her head. "The thought did cross my mind that it would be awkward for someone in your position to come to me officially for counselling. But I never felt...," again she shook her head, "it never seemed to me like you talked to me... like we spent time together just so you could get some therapy." Even if, she added silently to herself, all you were looking for was friendship.

She wondered for a brief moment what it would have been like – and how she would have reacted – if he _had_ been set on wooing her from the outset.

He gave her a lopsided grin, apparently reassured. "Good. Because I didn't... I mean, apart from that one time, I never came looking for you just to talk about me. Your friendship is...." He looked away, apparently struggling for words. "I want us to be friends, Kate."

"Me too, John." She could barely get her reply out above a whisper, and she was glad he wasn't looking at her right then. Because she wasn't sure her had her face under control, and maybe it was saying she didn't want to be friends. She wanted more. Much more.

He got up from where he was sitting on the steps and came and joined her by the railing, folding himself into the corner opposite her. As he gazed out over the city, apparently happy to let the conversation lapse into one of their customary silences, she knew that, for the sake of Atlantis, and if she was to answer Elizabeth's impassioned plea, friendship would have to be enough.


	8. Chapter 8 (The Gift)

_No matter what anyone says, I still can't accept I didn't mess up...._

Kate gripped the railing and looked out over the ocean, but barely saw the shifting pattern of white crests and gray shadows in the running waves. Instead, her vision was filled with images from the past days. Teyla's eyes filled with contempt, a sneer on her lips. Teyla punching Carson, smashing an IV stand across John's back, advancing on Elizabeth. Teyla stretched across the floor, out cold, John with his sidearm pointed at her.

She lifted her hands and pressed her fingertips to her temples. It had seemed such a routine request when John had made it: Teyla was hardly the first person to have nightmares about the Wraith; Kate suspected that if she had any real idea what to expect, she would have been having nightmares herself.

Although she'd been doubtful about her chances of making a difference with Teyla. "Wouldn't you do better asking Carson to prescribe her sleeping tablets?" she'd asked him.

John looked sheepish. "Don't think she'd take them."

"And you think she'd talk to me?" Kate knew her uncertainty must be written across her face.

"Maybe not." He sighed. "But would you try? Please? If anyone can get past someone's defenses and get them to talk, it's you...."

"Even if she does, a week's not long....," she shook her head. "Don't know how much I can do."

Plenty enough, it seemed. Again, the kaleidoscope of images wheeled before her. Teyla's trusting face as she talked about her past, the IV stand arcing down on John's prone form, the fear in Elizabeth's eyes, the contempt in Teyla's....

She'd pushed too hard, asked questions better left unanswered, forced Teyla into trusting her – and then betrayed that trust. Because John had asked her to. Because it was John she wanted to lift the burden from, by "fixing" Teyla, by helping him use Teyla to gain the intelligence he so badly craved. Because it was John....

Her mind ran back over the conversation she'd had that morning – was it really only a few short hours ago? – in Elizabeth's office. When the call had come requesting her presence, she'd still been talking to Teyla, still trying to help her come to terms with the knowledge she had Wraith DNA. Taking a few minutes to finish up that conversation had made her the last to arrive. Rodney and Carson were already ensconced on the seats at the far side of the office, and John was standing at Elizabeth's left shoulder, his hand resting on his sidearm. There was, quite pointedly, only one chair left, in front of Elizabeth's desk. As Elizabeth motioned her into it, Kate had the uncomfortable feeling she was on trial in some way.

Kate had dragged her eyes away from John and focused on what Elizabeth had summoned her to hear.

"We've been doing some more digging into the Wraith scientist's research," Elizabeth waved a hand at her laptop, "and we think Teyla may have more than just the ability to sense the Wraith coming. It's possible she could actually tap into the Wraith's telepathic communications and hear what they're saying to each other." Elizabeth folded her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "We could use that to gather intel on the Wraith – their plans, their tactics. It could tip the balance for us, give us a chance at defending the city.... If we can help her tap into that network."

"Wait!" Kate lifted her hand. "You're saying Teyla's sense of the Wraith...," she frowned as she strove to understand Elizabeth's meaning, "that it's like someone with severe hearing loss who can tell there's a conversation going on, but can't distinguish the words?"

"Something like that, yes." Elizabeth gestured briefly at her laptop again. "But, from the database, it looks like the original test subjects _could_ pick out the words clearly. That's what the voices were that Teyla's ancestors could hear. The question is: why can't Teyla hear the Wraith clearly? And could she with the right treatment?"

Kate nodded. She fixed her gaze on the Athosian jar on Elizabeth's desk while she silently pondered Elizabeth's words. She was aware of the intense focus of the four other people in the room on her. "It's likely Teyla's...," Kate struggled for the right word, "impairment isn't genetic. That the full ability is latent. Like...." As the supposed expert on the mind in the Atlantis team, Kate felt hopelessly out of her depth. ESP had never been something she'd taken too seriously or been interested in back on earth. "Like someone who develops cataracts in old age can still process light falling on the retina, but the image is blurred – but if they have the cataracts removed, they can see as well as ever?" She looked across at Carson, who nodded.

"Or like the brain of someone with a lazy eye doesn't process any input from that eye," he offered. "But if you put a patch over their good eye, you can force them to use the lazy eye. The information is still getting through, but the brain throws it away."

Kate looked back at Elizabeth. "It's possible people who can hear the Wraith are able to put up some kind of mental barrier to shut them out." She shook her head and gave a small laugh. "Another eye analogy: like the way your pupils contract when you shine a bright light in your eyes. Those people without the ability would have been have been seen as crazy, so they probably never had a chance to have children. Those with enough natural ability to block out the Wraith voices so they could function normally _were_ able to pass on their genes and that ability. Natural selection in action...."

Elizabeth nodded, clearly deep in thought. "Is there a way we get Teyla to lower the mental barrier so she can hear clearly?"

Kate shrugged and glanced across at Carson, who gave her a weak smile. "I wouldn't know where to start," he admitted. "This is your department."

Kate bit her lip. "Drugs, perhaps." She looked back at Elizabeth. "Or maybe hypnosis." She sensed a sharpening of interest in the room.

"Can you do that?" Elizabeth asked.

Kate shrugged. "Maybe."

"You can?" Rodney's interjection forced her to twist in her chair to look at him. "You can hypnotize people?" He sounded slightly incredulous.

She nodded. "It's not a technique I use often, but yes, I've had some success inducing hypnosis in the past."

"Oh. Hmm," he squirmed in his seat, "it's just that I, maybe you could...."

"Rodney!" Elizabeth cut him off before he could hijack the conversation any further. Kate turned back to face her as Elizabeth added, "You don't sound very confident it will work."

Kate shook her head "It's not an exact science at the best of times. And Teyla may not be the most receptive subject, for lots of reasons." She bit her lip. "I'm not sure we should even try...."

She trailed off as John took a step forward.

"We could do with that intel, Kate," he said quietly.

Kate rubbed a hand across her forehead. "Yes, I know." She sighed. She looked back up at John. "But what if we take the blocks away and can't put them back?"

He frowned. "Is that likely?"

Kate sighed again. "I don't know. This is so far outside my experience.... I have no idea what the long-term effects will be." She looked back at Elizabeth. "But I do know Teyla's already struggling to deal with the bleed-through from so many Wraith being awake, and she was pretty shaken up by the news she has Wraith DNA." She lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Putting more stress on her mind could result in serious damage, psychological or physical. Maybe even kill her if she has a strong physiological reaction to what she's experiencing in her mind."

Elizabeth was staring at her hands, apparently lost in thought. Kate heard John shift his weight from one foot to the other.

"Teyla was part of the team that raided the Hive ship with the Genii." John's tone was clipped. Looking back up at him, Kate saw his expression had hardened a little."We didn't all come back. If we were going on another raid, I wouldn't hesitate to order Teyla to board a Hive ship, and she wouldn't hesitate to go. I don't see how this is any different."

Kate tilted her head and gave him a direct look. "Well, for one thing, you wouldn't be asking _me_ to hypnotise her before she went." She crossed her arms. "You're Teyla's commanding officer, Major. It's your right to give that order." She gave a slight shrug. "I'm her therapist." She glanced around at the others before looking back at him. "I know everyone in this room cares about Teyla, but it's _my_ professional duty to look after her welfare. And that includes not administering therapies I think could do serious long-term harm." She hugged herself a little more tightly. "Just because we're in the middle of a war zone, and it's expedient for the military, doesn't mean I can or should abandon my professional ethics."

John narrowed his eyes. The room was silent for a long moment, except for the tattoo of his fingers as he drummed them on the holster of his sidearm. "You won't help?"

Kate gave a weary sigh. "I didn't say that, John." She lifted her hands pressed her fingers to her temples. "Right now, I don't know _what_ to do."

"Kate?" She looked back up at him. He was leaning forward, his weight on his hand resting on Elizabeth's desk, bringing his face closer to hers. "We really could do with that intel. Anything at all we can find out would help." His voice was low, desperate, pleading. "Believe me, I don't want to ask Teyla to do this any more than you do, but I don't think we have much choice."

Kate closed her eyes. Her training, her professional ethics, her knowledge of the Wraith and what they could do when they arrived, Elizabeth's imprecation to help John, his own imploring gaze: all were tugging first one way and then the other. The severity of the threat they faced and the need for intelligence warred with her sense of duty to Teyla. _Isn't that what professional ethics are all about: to provide an anchor that stops you drifting with the tide of circumstance?_

In her mind's eye, John's face swam before her. She swallowed hard. He had a good heart; he felt the deaths of those under his command perhaps more than he should; and he cared for Teyla. They wouldn't even be having this conversation if he hadn't been worried enough about her to ask Kate to help her. She had to believe he wouldn't ask for this unless he truly thought it was worth the risk and would make a difference. And she saw again the real hope that had been in his face when she'd first entered Elizabeth's office, and compared it with the forced optimism he'd paraded at the briefing just a few days ago.

She opened her eyes to find his gaze still fixed on her. "I don't like it, John," she gave him a weak smile, "but you're right. In the circumstances, we have to try. If Teyla says yes, I'll do what I can to help her connect."

He returned the smile. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she swung back to Elizabeth, who had a thoughtful look on her face. "But I'd like it to be just you and I who talk to her, Doctor Weir. I don't want Teyla to feel it's an order she can't refuse...."

She had glanced back at John, who had straightened and taken a step back, but was still smiling gratefully at her.

__

That damn smile....

Kate gripped the deck railing again, anger coursing through her like the swell slapping against the base of the East pier a few feet below. She'd let her feelings for John cloud her judgement, allowing her ridiculous infatuation with him to destroy her professional detachment. Her hands tightened on the rail as another wave of shame washed over her. _Stupid, stupid, stupid...._

Beyond the cocoon of her own wretchedness, she was aware of the quiet whine of the door behind her, and the low vibrations of a firm tread crossing the decking towards her. _Carson, let it be Carson...._

"Kate?" John's hesitant question completed her misery. She couldn't deal with him, not now, not when she felt like she'd shatter into a thousand pieces at the first blow, or the first kind word.

She could feel him hovering a few steps away. She took a deep breath and pulled herself up straighter. But she couldn't turn or speak: she didn't trust her face or voice not to betray her. Didn't he get the message that she just wanted to be left alone?

She heard him take a few more steps towards her until he was at her side. "Kate?" His voice was soft, but the sense of him next to her was like standing too close to a furnace when the door was opened. She turned her head away, afraid he would catch sight of her face. Swallowing, she managed to find her voice and croak, "What do you want?"

She felt him physically recoil from the ice in her voice: swaying backwards before he steadied and stood firm.

"Wanted to see if you were OK."

There was a catch in his voice too. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lift his hand, and she flung up her own to stop him: to defend herself and to ward him off. Because she couldn't bear his pity, his kindness.

"Don't!" she forced out.

He froze. "Don't... what?"

She pressed her lips together while she mustered the composure to answer him. "Just... don't, okay," was the best she could manage. Dammit, couldn't he take a hint and walk away? "Why _are_ you here?" Anger helped her find the words, gave strength to them.

"I _thought,_ after what happened today, you might need someone to talk to." He sounded nettled and she felt a surge of satisfaction and relief. He'd give up on her soon, go away, leave her alone.

"If I'd wanted to talk," she snapped. "I'd have been somewhere you could find me."

"I know." He sounded tired and he gave a small grunt as he shifted his weight. She wondered if his back had stiffened up from the blow Teyla had landed on him. Glancing sideways, she saw he'd turned and was leaning his arms on the railing, his hands clasped in front of him. "Tried there first," he went on, his tone almost amused, "but you weren't there. Wasn't sure if I was too early or too late. So I tried your office, and your quarters. And the mess hall." He gave a half laugh. "Still couldn't find you. Then I started asking around."

She heard him shift again, as if the memory made him uncomfortable. Or perhaps he was just trying to ease sore muscles. He gave a soft snort. Turning her head a little, she caught sight of his interlinked fingers flexing restlessly.

"Eventually Doctor Fusanaki said she'd seen you get in a transporter." His hands stilled, "So I went up to ops and had Doctor Zelenka expand the scanning field on the biometric sensor to Citywide. And there was this blip out on the Eastern pier not far from your lab...."

He turned to face her, another soft involuntary hiss of pain escaping him, and rested his arm along the railing; his fingertips just inches from hers. The knot inside her chest tightened again. She wanted to move away from him, but she knew he didn't deserve that kind of rejection. In her imagination, she saw him making his way round the city, searching for her, increasingly worried. Dammit, why did he have to be so... _nice_?

 

She took a deep breath and did her best to keep her voice level. "I appreciate the effort, John. I really do. But... I just want to be alone."

He was silent. She held herself still, willing herself not to make any move towards him, give him any encouragement. _Go!_ she silently urged him.

"Sure," he said at last. He sounded weary. "Wish you'd come back to the central tower with me but...," he straightened, "I can't force you to." He took a step away and hesitated. "But I'll be there when you're ready to talk, okay?"

A hot tear stung Kate's cheek, but she didn't lift her hand to wipe it away. She clasped the railing more tightly, determined to hold on to her self control until he'd gone.

He seemed to be waiting in case she decided to answer. When she made no sign, he turned away. A second tear joined the first as she listened to his retreating footsteps and the whine of the opening door.

Relief at his leaving washed over her and left her weak: her knees buckled and she slid downwards. The trickle of tears became a flood, and one huge, gasping sob after another escaped her. She put her hands to her face and rocked backwards and forwards, giving way to noisy misery.

She was almost too far gone to flinch at the light touch on her shoulder that grew firmer as his hand closed around her. She tried to shrug him off, but he reached across and grasped her other shoulder, turning her and pulling her towards him. Once more, she tried to escape, but he only drew her more forcefully against him. One hand snaked around her back, holding her close, while the other stroked her hair. He was making soothing noises, barely audible over her sobs. She resisted for a moment longer, before the fight went out of her and she succumbed, allowing him to press her tightly against his shoulder.

She cried for what seemed like a long time, the sobs that wrenched her whole body gradually giving way to steady, quiet weeping. She was only dimly aware of the strong arms around her, the soothing words being muttered in her ear: her restless, reproachful thoughts were stilled at last as the tension and anger flowed out of her with her tears.

Slowly her breathing steadied and she became aware of him, warm and solid and reassuring. One arm was still wrapped around her waist, while his other hand cupped the nape of her neck, his thumb softly moving against her hair. Even when she finally lapsed into silence, he continued to hold her close, seemingly in no hurry to jolly her back to her usual self, apparently content to let her find her own path back in her own time. She sighed. She wanted to stay here forever, safe and sleepy. But it was time to pull herself together and face the world, and her own shortcomings, once more.

She sat up and drew away from him a little. His hand fell away from her hair, but he still kept his arm around her waist, not letting her escape too far.

She met his gaze for a moment, before looking away. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Don't be." He sounded mildly amused.

Realisation struck her. "You were never actually planning on leaving, were you?"

"Nope." Again that edge of laughter in his voice. "Couldn't let you stay out here in a remote part of the City on your own without a guard. Was planning to wait you out; thought I'd seen a chair somewhere in the hallway." He briefly touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, and she looked up at him. "Glad I didn't make it through the door before you stopped pretending you didn't need me, though."

She felt a flush spread across her face as he smiled at her. She looked away, embarrassed. "I made such a hash of things," she murmured. "Messing about with stuff I didn't understand."

"We all do that all the time." He gave her a reassuring squeeze with the hand on her waist. "Heck, it's a weekly occurrence on my team."

She knew he was trying to make her laugh, to soften her pain, but this wasn't a joke to her. "Could have got you all killed," she pointed out.

"But you didn't. That was why Sergeant Bates was there with the stunner, remember?"

"When she said she was feeding...." Kate closed her eyes, remembering the anguish in Teyla's voice. "If she wasn't already having nightmares, she'd sure be having them now. I haven't exactly helped...."

"Yes, you have." There was quiet certainty in his voice. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He gave her a brief half-smile. "I know Teyla. If there's one thing she can't stand, it's not being in control, not having something to do. So, we haven't quite figured things out completely yet, but we will. And I know Teyla'll feel better when we do."

"I wish I could believe that...." She held his gaze, seeking reassurance.

"Believe it." He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Elizabeth and I talked to Teyla again before I came looking for you. I think she's still pretty shaken up by what happened, but she seemed a lot more like the old Teyla."

Kate smiled. "I'm glad. But I'm still not sure we should have done it a second time, let alone a first."

"Hey, if anyone's to blame, it's me." His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I talked you into it when you had doubts. I wanted to go on when Elizabeth wanted to end things. And Ford was right: Teyla would have tried again whether we were there or not. Besides," his face grew sober again, "we got the intel we were looking for."

"We did?" Even though his expression had darkened, a little of her own personal gloom had lifted at the news.

He nodded. "We know their route to Atlantis now, which might just give us a chance of defeating them before they even get here. And if they do get here, we have a fair idea what their objective is."

She raised her eyebrows. "You mean, apart from feeding on us and wiping us out?"

He shook his head and swallowed. She felt his hand tighten on her waist. "They want the Atlantis gate. They know about Earth. And that Atlantis is the only way to get to it."

Kate's mind leaped away to memories of home and family, and the thought of Hive ships hovering over Earth. She shivered.

"Hey." The half-smile was back. "At least it gives us some ideas about how to defend ourselves. You did good, Kate." He caught and held her gaze, the intensity of his gaze almost mesmerising.

"Did I?"

He nodded. "If it wasn't for you, Teyla would never have talked to Charin, we wouldn't have found the Wraith lab... known that Teyla has Wraith DNA... known we had a chance of connecting."

She blindly reached for his hand, and turned it so they were palm to palm, her fingers spread against his. "Teyla has Wraith DNA. And you have the Ancient gene. Guess that's not easy to deal with either."

He slid his fingers to intertwine them with hers and clasp her hand. "Not always, no."

She was suddenly very aware of his touch, his closeness, the warmth of his body, how good he smelled. Abruptly she pulled away and stood up. A rush of anger flooded through her: once more, she was letting herself be overwhelmed by that damned personal charm he barely knew he was exercising. No matter how many times he might reassure her things had worked out okay this time, she knew she couldn't afford to let her feelings for him cloud her professional judgement again. She had been right to try and send him away, stupid to allow herself to be comforted by him.

Unsure what her face betrayed, she turned away from him, reaching out and gripping the railing to steady herself. She couldn't afford to say or do anything that would show him what she felt. Trying to keep her voice level, hoping he would attribute any roughness in it to the residue of her tears, she took a deep breath and said, "Thank you, John." His name seemed warm and sweet on her tongue. Furious with herself, she closed her eyes.

She heard him rise as well, once more letting out a soft groan as his bruised muscles protested, and move next to her. "You're welcome." he murmured.

There was a long silence during which she couldn't think of what to say. She supposed they should go back to the central tower, but she didn't feel quite ready for that, quite ready to encounter other people.

He was the one to speak first. "Why are you so hard on yourself?" There was a puzzled note to his voice.

She risked a glance at him. He was frowning too. "What do you mean?"

"You're here for everyone else in Atlantis. But you don't want to let anyone else help you."

She looked out across the ocean a few feet below, while she carefully considered her reply. She realised with a start that the sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and the soft lights on the pier had come on automatically. At least an hour must have passed since he arrived. "It's not that I don't appreciate your kindness, John," she said at last. "But I can't expect it, or come to rely on it. You have a whole city to look after and protect."

"That's true." Again, he gently grasped her shoulder and turned her to face him. Reluctantly she looked up at him, at the soft smile in his eyes. "I do." He brought his other hand up so he held her lightly between his hands. His grip tightened a little. "And that makes me feel…." He didn't seem able to find the right word and settled for a shrug. "I don't know if I can keep everyone safe. Not with what's coming." The smile faded a little. "So let me believe I can protect at least one person, make one person feel safe. Let me help you, Kate. If not for your sake, then for mine."

He drew her towards him and wrapped his arms around her, only the slightest wince betraying his soreness. After a moment, she let herself lean against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Her hands came up and clutched his arms. A part of her knew she shouldn't take this comfort from him, that she was storing up future misery for both of them. Yet it felt so very good to be held close, to be the one who took consolation rather than gave it. And hadn't Elizabeth asked her to do what she could to help John, to relieve his burden?

She felt him settle his cheek against her hair, and tighten his arms a little. Closing her eyes, she sighed and relaxed into his embrace.


	9. Chapter 9 (The Siege/Intruder)

_The Daedalus arrived back today. Funny how you can spend so much time imagining the way things will be, and then they don't turn out like that at all..._

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She'd read the same paragraph three times, and it still didn't make any sense. Rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead, she stood and crossed to the window. By leaning against one edge and squinting, she could just make out the bulk of the Daedalus docked at the edge of the City.

John had been back on Atlantis for – she glanced at her watch – four hours now, and she hadn't been able to concentrate on her work for any of them. Truth be told, she'd been distracted for the past couple of days. It was nearly two months since she'd seen him, and she wasn't sure whether his arrival was a good or a bad thing. All the intervening weeks seemed to have done was increase her confusion about what she felt.

The last time they'd been in the same room was a meeting between the two of them and Carson to discuss which of her clients among the military contingent should be sent back to earth now that was possible, and who could continue on Atlantis with her support.

She'd already had a long and tiring argument on much the same subject with Rodney, who didn't want to let any of the scientists go home. He was only silenced when she pointed out that if he hadn't been head of the science team, he would have been the first one through the Stargate, since she'd seen him twice as often as anyone else. If he wouldn't be reasonable about the others, she'd take it as evidence that he was mentally unfit and have him removed on medical grounds.

She'd been glad Carson had been sitting between her and John. Those final days under siege had an unreal quality; they'd done and said things they might have held back from in less pressured times. With the immediate threat of the Wraith lifted, she didn't know whether she should trust any of what had happened. In fact, it was all a little embarrassing.

By the way he also found it hard to meet her eye, it looked like John felt the same.

Yet those last moments they'd shared on the balcony had seemed anything but awkward, even if they'd both been wrapped up in grief that neither could lift from the other. She'd been determined to wait for him as long as she could, and he'd arrived at last. When he walked towards her, moving slowly, his tread heavy and uncertain, everything in his face looked dragged downwards by lack of sleep and lack of hope. Automatically, she reached out her hand to him. Quickening his last few steps, as if encouraged, he stopped so close that his vest brushed against her shoulder.

They both were beyond even a simple greeting, too burdened by the events of the day and what was to happen soon. He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder and tried to smile, and failed miserably. Without quite meaning to, she wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him against her. He rested his head against hers and slid his hand across her back, tightening their embrace.

After a while, he murmured into her hair, "I wasn't sure you'd still be here."

She reached for his free hand and tilted his wrist so she could see his watch. "I have to go join my evac group in... twenty seven minutes." The words caught in her throat. So little time. "I'm glad you made it before I had to leave," she whispered.

When she let go of his wrist, he wrapped his other arm around her. She felt a shiver run through him as they stood silent, looking outwards over towers and piers and pinnacles.

"I failed." His voice was quiet but filled with reproach.

She reached up and grasped his forearm. "Not completely." Her own voice was unsteady as, for the last time, she watched the sun just beginning to fall behind the highest spires. "We'll still be around. To take back what we've learned. Tell people about what we've seen."

"But the City will be gone." His tone was bleak, dulled."The Ancients kept it safe for ten thousand years, and we didn't even manage to protect it for twelve months."

She began to turn to look at him, but he held her where she was. "Don't," he said harshly. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Don't waste any of your," he shifted so he could see his watch again, "twenty three minutes."

He settled back against her. She could feel the tension in him, his unhappiness, but she had no words of comfort to give him. Watching the changing colors of the city as the sun sank, from glowing gold to dull bronze to dim oranges and purples in the shadows, she once more reflected on how she loved the way the view was never the same two nights running. How, no matter how bleak the events of the day, its beauty could still move her. She found her mind straying back over all the occasions she'd stood looking at this view: all the moods from despair to joy.

"Remember the first time you brought me down here?" The sound of her own voice almost surprised her. She felt him nod. "Thought I hated the place. Didn't want to be here."

"I remember." He pulled her a little closer. "Remember you didn't just walk off and leave me, either, even though I think you wanted to."

"Yeah." That raised a half smile. She bit her lip. "I'm glad I didn't. Not sure I would have made it through the past year without...." She stopped and took a deep breath, aware she was standing on the edge of a precipice. "Anyway, a lot of bad stuff has happened, and things haven't always been easy, but there was a lot of good stuff too. And.... I'm glad I came to Atlantis, glad I was part of all of this. I wish people hadn't died, and the Wraith weren't coming, but I don't think I'd want to change anything."

"Even Rodney?"

She could vividly imagine the wry smile, the raised eye that went with his comment. She gave a half snort. "He's certainly been an experience!" She suddenly was afraid she was going to start crying. Discovering John's sly humor, finding herself the butt of his gentle teasing, and sharing his somewhat left-field take on life had been one of the best parts of the year.

She pressed her lips together, determined to get her emotions under control. Silence fell between them again. The outer reaches of the city were growing dim against the darkening sky. The lights in the far piers and towers had been doused. Only the central tower was lit, and soon that would go dark. At last she took another look at his watch, and sighed. "I need to go."

He slowly dropped his arms, and she turned and looked up at him at last. He tried a smile that didn't work. "See you on the other side."

She nodded and walked away, trailing her fingers on the handrail as she climbed the stairs.

Yet just a few hours later, she'd been stepping back through the Stargate into the City. When the invitation to assist in the defence of the city came, Kate hadn't hesitated. Only as she was being issued with a sidearm did she begin to wonder why she'd been so keen to return. To defend the city, that was part of it; to see one more sunset bronzing the tops of the towers. Those were the reasons she gave herself. But it was to keep faith, too, keep faith with John, though she hadn't known it until he came striding into the infirmary while she was preparing triage kits

"Doctor Heightmeyer, could I have a word?" His hand under her elbow hustled her off to Carson's rarely-used office almost before she'd had a chance to put down the bandages she'd been parcelling out.

Steering her inside, he pushed the door closed and swung round to face her.

"What the hell are you doing?" His tone left her in no doubt he was angry. Nor did she have to try too hard to guess what he was angry about.

"You mean: why am I back on Atlantis?" She kept her voice level, although she couldn't quite believe they were having this conversation. If anything, she'd expected him to be grateful for the support of the scientists who'd come back.

"Yes!" He rested his hands on top of the P90 clipped to his vest. "Why the hell didn't you stay at the alpha site?"

"Because they asked for civilian volunteers," she pointed out patiently. She still wasn't sure quite why he was so angry. "I wanted to help...."

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're about to be in the middle of a damn war zone. You should have stayed at the alpha site. You'd have been _safer_." His knuckles whitened as he gripped his P90 more tightly.

Realisation hit her: he'd turned her personal safety into some kind of totem. He thought that if he could keep her safe, then he wouldn't have failed completely.

"Do you think we'd be safe anywhere in Pegasus if Atlantis falls?" She shrugged. "Especially after all the military were pulled back from the alpha site?"

"Safer than on a planet with two Hive ships heading for it, yes." He glared at her. "The Daedalus will be here in a couple of days. They'd come and pick you up. Take you back to earth."

"Maybe." She looked at him calmly, suddenly aware of exactly why she'd returned, and how to offer him the comfort she'd struggled to provide him with last time she'd seen him. "But I should be here. I have a duty...."

His face twisted in a sardonic smile. "I don't think people are going to have much time for counselling, Kate."

"No, I don't suppose they are." She caught his gaze and held it. "I'm not talking about that." She took a step closer to him. "You told me you weren't sure you could save the city. But that you needed to believe you could protect at least one person, make one person feel safe." She reached out and put her hands over his. "You think I'd be safer on the alpha site. Perhaps. But I'm here because I believe you. Because I think you _can_ keep me safe."

His smile grew more bitter as he continued to glare at her. Then his face softened and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, Kate...." He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her awkwardly to him for a moment, the P90 hanging from his vest hard and cold between them.

He pushed her away a little and looked down at her. His mouth turned up in a wry smile. "But, in case you hadn't noticed, Colonel Everett is in command now." He lost the smile. "And he doesn't seem inclined to listen to me. And," he bit his lip, "I'm not sure he's that tactically astute. We just lost our primary line of defence, blinded ourselves for a few hours, and used up all our nukes."

"Idiot generals...," she murmured. She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah...." He managed to half crack a smile.

"John, listen to me." She squeezed his shoulder again. "Just because the band is on the field doesn't mean the game is over." He raised an eyebrow, before the half-smile turned into a grin and he shook his head at the football reference. She went on, "You're smart. Resourceful. You know Atlantis better than anyone." She reached for his hand and turned her palm to his. "And she knows you. Don't...."

She was interrupted by the crackle of his radio. "Major Sheppard, this is Colonel Everett. Please report to me in the Hologram Room."

John pulled his hand away from hers to answer. "This is is Sheppard. On my way." He looked back down at her.

"Well, there goes my big rousing speech...." She tried to laugh.

He smiled at her. "It was a good speech." He drew her close again. "And you stay in the infirmary and out of trouble, OK?"

She nodded as he stepped back, trying to send him away with a memory of a confident smile, although she wasn't quite sure she'd succeeded.

She'd seen him one other time, briefly, as he'd crossed the infirmary to speak to Everett before the colonel was shipped back to earth. They'd exchanged a smile, a nod of the head, each acknowledging that the other had survived, and that there would be a time later to share their experiences. He'd been recalled to earth before they'd had a chance.

Now two months had passed and it all seemed like a different world. With the threat of the Wraith lifted, and communication with earth re-established, life on Atlantis had settled into a new routine. Which included stepping up the time she could spend on research. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the window, settled back down at her desk, and once more tried to make sense of the journal article she was reading.

She was almost indecently relieved when her struggle to concentrate was interrupted by a knock at the door. And her heart took another leap when she hurried across the room to open it and found John outside.

She felt like she noticed everything about him all at once. How his long fingers were curled over where, arm still raised, he rested his loosely-balled fist against the door frame level with the door crystals. How his hair was even more unruly than normal, as if he'd just run a hand through it. The way the slightly shadowed, distracted expression he wore lifted as the door opened, a smile warming his eyes and twitching his lips as he raised his gaze to her.

Her heart hammered in her chest and she put a hand out to steady herself. "John!" Her voice sounded squeaky in her ears.

"Hey." He licked his lips. "I was... just passing. Thought I'd stop by and say hi." He pushed off from the door frame and dropped his hand to his sidearm. "That is, if you're not busy?"

"No. I was just reading...." She gestured back towards her desk. "Research journal. Not very interesting, to be honest." She flushed, realising she was babbling while he still waited outside. "Er... come in." She stood back to let him through the door. "Things have been a lot quieter recently."

He turned, stopping close to her as the door slid shut. He grinned. "No Rodney?"

She laughed nervously, his presence hitting her like a blast from a blowtorch. "Well, that's certainly helped!" She stepped past him and waved him into a seat on the couch opposite her. "But mostly that some of my more difficult cases have been given leave."

He settled back cautiously on the couch, hands resting on his knees. He glanced around, inspecting her office, his eyes lingering for a moment on the view, before he looked back at her.

She crossed her legs and clasped her hands on her knees. "How about you? I hear congratulations are in order... Colonel."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Thank you... Doctor."

"Maybe one day you'll even become an idiot general," she teased.

He shook his head and his smile turned more cynical. "I only got the promotion because the rank came with the job."

"Well, someone thought you deserved the job even though you didn't have the rank," she pointed out gently.

He turned his gaze back towards the window. "Elizabeth," he muttered.

Kate smiled. "I always thought the two of you made a great team. Even when neither of you did!"

She saw a faint blush colour his face, and once again that wry smile lift the corner of his mouth. "So...," he turned back to her. "What about you? You didn't manage to wriggle out of the counseling completely?"

She shook her head. "They discussed sending another therapist but... I've already established relationships with the patients here. And, well, it isn't essential for a therapist to have the same experiences as her patients, but there's so much people don't have to explain to someone who's also been on Atlantis for the past year.... So... Doctor MacKenzie asked me to stay on."

She felt a warm rush of satisfaction as she remembered MacKenzie's words: _You've done a remarkable job in the circumstances, Doctor Heightmeyer. I'm not sure there's many experienced therapists who could have coped with the caseload you had. Frankly, I don't think we have anyone more qualified to send in your place._

"Maybe someone thought you deserved the job even though you didn't have the qualifications?" Now it was his turn to tease, and hers to smile sarcastically.

"Yes, I probably have Rodney to 'thank'!" She softened the smile. "I'll have more backup now we're in contact with Earth again, and fewer patients. And in an odd kind of way, I think I'd miss it...."

"Know what you mean." He nodded and flexed his hands on his knees. "Plenty of last year was pretty grim, but this place, the people, they get under your skin." He caught her eye for a moment before looking away again.

"And with the Daedalus going back and forth, we'll have a few more home comforts."

"Yes." He leaned forward eagerly, a gleam in his eye. "Like... I brought some of last season's games back on tape with me." He smirked. "Maybe we can get together and watch them some time?"

"Don't tell me." She sighed and crossed her arms defensively. "Purdue rolled over Michigan?"

"Not quite… But yeah, Purdue won." His grin widened.

She gave him a mock glare. "Don't suppose you brought back any games I'd actually _want_ to watch?"

"Maybe."

She suddenly sobered, hugging herself and turning to gaze out of the window. "It seems strange to think of everyone back on earth," she murmured. "Oblivious to what's going on out here." She looked at John again. "What was it like, being back?"

He shrugged. "A lot of debriefings and meetings and talk. Mostly in the bowels of the SGC. And I went to see Aiden's family." He clasped his hands together loosely, staring down at them as he twisted his fingers together.

Kate saw the tension in his jaw as he pressed his lips together. She remembered the first time they'd spoken – really spoken – and how he'd talked about his fears for the young lieutenant who'd become his responsibility. She leaned forward and put her hand over his. "That must have been hard." She gave a gentle squeeze.

He shrugged. "Wish I'd been able to give them more hope." He caught her fingers between his, and softly ran his thumbs across the back of her hand. His touch was warm, light, tender. Kate felt a shiver run through her. As gently as she could, she pulled her hand away. Whatever she was feeling, it was inappropriate in the circumstances. He needed a counselor or a friend, not a lovesick flirt.

He looked up at her, a slight frown on his face. Flustered, she rose and crossed to the window, trying to regain her composure as she looked out over the city.

He cleared his throat. "Will you be going back to earth soon?"

"I hope so." She rubbed the back of her neck, conscious of his gaze on her, and wondered what he was making of her strange behaviour. She took a deep breath and added, "Dr Weir has promised I'll be among the first to get some vacation time."

She heard him come up behind her. She felt him hesitate for a moment before he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her lightly against him. She took a deep breath; the blood pounding in her ears nearly drowned out his soft-spoken admonition to "Just make sure they let you out of Cheyenne Mountain every once in a while."

She half turned, tilting her face to look up at him. He was bending to drop a kiss on her forehead. His lips, aimed at her temple, met the corner of her mouth. And lingered. A rush of desire surged through her. Without thinking, she parted her lips and sought to capture his. She found his mouth opening to welcome hers with the same urgency she felt.

He gently turned her to face him. Lifting his hands to cup her face, he drew her closer and deepened the kiss. She responded, savoring his taste and the feel of him as she explored his mouth. His muscles were hard under the soft cloth of his uniform as she gripped his arms, and his musky scent enveloped her.

The kiss seemed to last for an hour, a day, a year, and yet she was still hungry for him when he broke it and drew back a little to look at her.

And when the truth, the horror of what had just happened washed over her.

"Oh God," she whispered, staring at his face, so close to hers still. "What have we done?"

"Something we should've done months ago." The corner of his mouth was twitched up into a small grin.

He moved back in to kiss her again, but she held him off with gentle pressure from her hands on his chest.

"You don't want…?" He seemed puzzled.

She licked her lips nervously. She thought she could still taste him on her, and she ached to taste him again. "More than you can imagine," she whispered.

He drew her towards him but once more she resisted. Now a touch of hurt was beginning to color the confusion she saw on his face.

She closed her eyes. "I'm afraid," she whispered. The admission out, she opened her eyes again. She owed it to him to say this directly. Once more, she locked gazes with him. "I've wanted this so much, for so long. But I don't know if you want it as much as I do. And I don't know if it's real for either of us, or just… circumstances, being thrown together like we were."

His mouth grew a little harder and his eyes narrowed as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, John," she whispered.

His face remained taut with pain for a moment longer before it softened into a wry smile. He slid his arms around her and drew her against his shoulder. His touch was sure but light as he cradled her. She knew that if she stepped back, he would let her go – but not without regret.

"Kate." He murmured her name and she felt him drop a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. "All that time I was back on Earth, I wanted to be here, in Atlantis." He sighed. "Stupid, huh? But part of that was missing you. A big part. Talking. Being together. Holding you." He pushed her away from him a little so he could look down into her face again. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just because we're here and because of what we've been through. But sure feels real to me." He stroked a hand down her cheek. "Real enough, I don't want to screw up."

She was silent, overwhelmed by the gift of his understanding and his patience for her foolishness. While he continued to stare down at her intently, his thumb caressing her cheek, she wondered how she could have ever doubted that there was love between them, even as she knew exactly why she feared that their love was not what she – and, it seemed, he – hoped for. John Sheppard would be kind to any woman lucky enough to find herself in his arms; and careful enough that no woman would find herself there lightly or easily. But pity alone was not enough for the two of them to step beyond the bounds of friendship.

"But…." The quiet word drew her back to the present. "I _do_ want to kiss you again. Is that OK?" His tone was serious, but his dry humour was evident in the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked down at her.

Her own mouth twitched in response. His intense gaze, the feel of his breath on her cheek, the heat striking from him as he held her close rendered her almost helpless to say no. Despite her fears, she nodded. Then her smile faded as he leaned in and touched his lips to hers once more. She tilted her face upwards to accept the caress, and he drew her closer, hardening the kiss a little, yet not too forcefully. She could sense his reticence, his control, the care he was taking not to overwhelm her. Her trust in him – in herself – growing, she parted her lips to allow him to deepen the kiss still further. Sliding her hand up his chest, she gripped his shoulder, dizzy with the sudden surge of desire created by the play of his mouth on hers. She felt his free hand circle around her waist and settle in the small of her back, pulling her more tightly against him. Yet always gentle. Always leaving her free to end the sweet, wordless conversation between them if she wished.

She wasn't sure if it was she or he who pulled back first, or whether it was by some unspoken mutual consent that they needed to come up for air. She was breathing deeply and a little unevenly as she gazed into his eyes, their faces still only inches apart.

"Mmm." He ran his tongue over his lips. "Just checking…."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining how good that first kiss was." He grinned. "Perhaps I should cross-check my data one more time."

This time, as he pulled her back to him and brought his lips down on hers, she slid her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. A part of her still didn't trust this, but she was never going to find out what he truly felt – what she truly felt – if she pushed him away completely.

His mouth roved over hers teasingly, while he pushed his hand gently through her hair to cradle the nape of her neck. He was a good kisser – why was that no surprise? – and she wondered if her own performance was a disappointment to him. She felt as if she should be doing something else, that he would expect more. Nervously, she pressed herself a little harder against him, working her mouth more fervently against his. He responded by sliding his arm further around her waist to pull her closer. He deepened the kiss and his tongue tentatively touched hers. A surge of intense pleasure shot through her and she let out a soft moan. He pulled her still tighter against him and his tongue once more sought hers, this time more eagerly and confidently. She succumbed at last to the desire flooding through her, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing her, her tongue tangling with his as she drew her hands down his back to pull him to her.

Sound seemed muted as she drank in the taste and touch of him, and she was only dimly aware of a knock at the door. It seemed unimportant as they continued to revel in each other. Only when it was repeated – as a loud, impatient rapping – did they break apart.

They were both breathing hard. He licked his lips. "Damn," he whispered. "Expecting someone?"

"No." She shivered as his fingers caressed her neck. His eyes were still making love to her. "I could pretend I'm not here...."

"Dr Heightmeyer?" Rodney's voice accompanied another impatient tattoo.

Kate sighed and reluctantly disentangled herself from John's embrace.

"Kate...." He tried to hold on to her, capturing her arms.

"It's Rodney.... You know what he's like. If I don't answer, he'll probably crack the door lock."

John closed his eyes and grimaced. "Yeah...." He let her hands slip through his fingers, his touch lingering as she stepped back.

Crossing the room, she opened the door just as Rodney was lifting his hand to knock again.

"Oh, good, you _are_ in. I...," Rodney did a double take as he looked past Kate and saw John. "Sheppard! What are you doing here?"

Kate turned to look at John, and Rodney took it as an excuse to push past her into her office.

"I was just...," John bounced on the balls of his feet as he hesitated over what to say, "bringing Doctor Heightmeyer our latest crew manifest." He gave Rodney an airy smile. Kate wondered why she'd never noticed before what a transparently bad liar he was when put on the spot.

"Oh, hmm, right." Rodney sounded distracted. Turning to face him, Kate realised it didn't matter how bad a liar John was, since Rodney was, as usual, wrapped up in his own world. "I was, er, wondering if I could, ah...."

"Make an appointment for as soon as possible?" Kate finished for him wearily.

"Yes!"

Kate noted sourly as she crossed to her desk to fire up the appointment calendar on her datapad that he hadn't even said please.

After he had tapped the time she suggested for the following day into his own datapad, and taken a couple of steps towards the door, he swung back round. "Oh, Sheppard!" He clicked his fingers and pointed at John. "Now we've got a ZPM, there are some new security features we can bring on line. I should show you." He swivelled round to point to the door.

John gave him a disbelieving stare and raised an eyebrow. "Right now?"

"Yes, yes." Rodney hopped impatiently from one foot to another as he edged backwards towards the door. "I'm sure you two can finish up whatever you were doing later."

John looked across inquiringly at Kate. She rolled her eyes and gave him a slightly exasperated smile.

"We wouldn't wanted to rush our... discussions," she pointed out gently.

John returned the smile, and Kate had to grasp the edge of the desk to steady herself. He nodded. "There is that. Later, then."

Alone once more, she knew she had no chance of concentrating on the research paper. Her body was tingling with the memory of the touch and taste of him; her mind was in happy shock, too busy replaying the totally unexpected events of the past hour to absorb anything new. She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa, gazing out at the quietly humming city while her heart sang with joy.

She was the first to the balcony: too eager and too early, perhaps. She grew cold waiting for him as the sun set, and grew fearful, too, that he would not come, realising the afternoon had been a mistake. Then he was there, hurrying down the stairs to her, drawing her unhesitatingly into his arms and kissing her tenderly but thoroughly.

"Should've kissed you here first," he murmured when they finally drew apart.

She giggled, as much with relief as amusement. "I'll live with it." He stilled her laughter with another kiss. "You're not going to wake up tomorrow morning regretting this?" she murmured uncertainly as he slid his mouth away from hers to trail kisses down her neck.

"You're kidding, right?" He lifted his head and grinned. "Been working out how to kiss you most of the way back to Atlantis." When she dropped her gaze, uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, he took her face in his hands and gently forced her to look at him again. "Why are you having such a hard time believing in us being together, Kate?"

"Oh, I don't know." She gave a slight, defiant shrug. "Because you could have any woman you want?"

He snorted softly. "Even assuming that's true," he stroked her cheek with his thumb, "it's _you_ I want."

She flushed. "But why me? Someone like Chaya is much more your style. Beautiful, wise...."

"You're beautiful and wise," he interrupted her. "Well, except when you get dumb ideas like this in your head." His thumbs were still gentling her, and he softened his mild sarcasm with a smile. "And you make me laugh. And you pick me up when I'm down. And sometimes you even let me feel like _you_ need _me_.... Besides, you like football, and you get my jokes."

Kate felt distinctly foolish for doubting him when he seemed so very sincere, but she couldn't quite shake her unease, even as he drew her towards him for another soft kiss. It seemed he sensed her diffidence, because he was frowning slightly when they drew apart.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I didn't fall for Chaya," he said quietly. "But she was like… a drug. An addiction. Rodney was right: I didn’t think straight around her. You," he licked his lips nervously, "you’re like food, or air. You may not make me feel like I’m drunk or high, but you give me strength. You sustain me." He slid his hands down to rest on her shoulders, and gave them a slight squeeze. "I can’t imagine existing without you.” He paused, as if listening to his own words, then gave her an uncomfortable smile. “I don’t think that came out right. I….”

She put her fingers to his lips to stop him talking. “Yes it did,” she whispered. This time, she was the one who drew his mouth down on to hers.

"In fact," he said, the next time there was an opportunity to speak, "if anything, we need to make this "official", and soon. I should tell Elizabeth. You may be a civilian, but she needs to know about anything in my personal life that may affect my ability to do my job."

Kate sighed and nodded. "And I need to tell Carson, in case there are any conflicts of interests with future clients."

"Which just leaves one question." As he moved in for another kiss, he murmured, "Which one of us is going to tell Rodney he's not the most important man in your life any more."


End file.
